


Step by Step

by nanuk_dain



Series: Step by Step [1]
Category: Lord of the Rings (Movies), Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Canon, Angst, F/F, First Time, Romance, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-23
Updated: 2013-03-20
Packaged: 2017-11-14 21:55:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 51,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/519912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nanuk_dain/pseuds/nanuk_dain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At first, Éowyn is not sure what to think of that silent stranger, but when a common cause unites the two women, she finds an unexpected kindred spirit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, yes, I am aware that there are some 70 years between Éowyn's and Elgarain's time of life, and I know Elgarain dies and all, but hey, that's what AU exists for! Elgarain comes from the fanmovie “Born of Hope” (which is completely amazing, go watch it!), I just couldn't help falling in love with this character, and I think she'd be a great match for dear Éowyn. This plotbunny just bit me and didn't let go... So, I didn't let Elgarain die, she left as she planned, before the Orc attack, and went off into the wide lands of Middle Earth. I work with mostly movieverse, and this story starts a while before Éomer gets banned by Grima.

[ ](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/nanuk_dain/16335757/92742/92742_original.jpg)

The rain was falling heavily, pouring down with such force that one could see no more than a few metres. The ground under the hooves of their horses was soaked beyond comfortable and every step made an unpleasant smacking noise. Éomer kept scanning the surroundings, careful not to miss anything. They were approaching danger, he felt it with such certainty that it made his skin crawl. Next to him, Théodred rode with equal tension in his posture and the men of their eoreds were no better. It was the tiniest movement near a rock that attracted Éomer's attention. He alerted the men immediately, and only an instant later masses of Orcs and Uruk-Hai were upon them.

Éomer heard his cousin curse loudly next to him while the men pulled their swords and formed an attack line. He gave the command to charge, and the Rohirrim dashed forwards, right into the approaching enemy lines. There were quite a lot more Orcs than Men, and Éomer knew victory would be more a matter of chance than skill. His sword connected with an axe, he blocked the blow and wielded his blade, struck down the attacker and rode towards the next. He heard the screams of Men and Orcs alike and saw a Rohirrim fall next to him, struck down by an Orc's sword.

Éomer turned and slew the attacker, then he quickly scanned the field to make sure Théodred was all right, only to discover him amidst a circle of Orcs who closed in on him. Éomer immediately turned to make his way over, but there were too many enemies between him and his cousin, he knew he would never reach him in time. An Uruk-Hai blocked his way before he had even taken ten steps and his attention focussed on the creature. It attacked vigorously and Éomer had to draw on all his strength to block the blows. He waited for an opening in its attack, stepping back in the course. It took him longer than he liked to finally deliver a thrust into the Unruk-Hai's neck, right between the connecting parts of its armour, and he did not wait to see it fall down. He rushed forwards again, searching for Théodred and finding him desperately fighting off the circle of Orcs that surrounded him. There was no Rohirrim anywhere near him and Éomer felt his blood run cold at the realisation that his cousin could never hold the enemy off long enough for help to reach him.

An Orc behind Théodred lifted his axe to deliver a blow to the Man's back that would certainly be deadly and Éomer heard himself cry out a warning that he knew his cousin could not hear over the noise of the fight. With horror, Éomer watched the weapon come down, but it never found its aim. An arrow suddenly hit the Orc right in the eye and it fell back before it could fulfil its attack. Before Éomer could even wonder where the arrow had come from, another one found its aim in the neck of an Orc right next to Théodred. The Man did not question the unexpected help, he just raised his sword to deliver a blow to the creature in front of him. Several more arrows hit the enemy all over the battlefield and Éomer realised the tables had turned to their favour. He attacked with new-found strength, killing whatever evil creature he could reach. An arrow hit an Uruk-Hai right in front of him and Éomer followed the path the arrow must have taken and discovered the silhouette of a man on top of the rocks, a longbow in his hand and the next arrow already notched in. 

When he looked around, the field was covered in bodies, mostly the enemy, some Men in between. His Rohirrim were about to finish off the last Orcs that had not yet fled and Théodred walked over to him, obviously still very much alive.

“That was a close call.” Éomer said with a small nod and clapped his shoulder in greeting.

“Aye, it was. Very close, indeed.” Théodred let his gaze travel over the surrounding rocks, obviously searching for the source of the arrows.

“Over there, on top of the large rock.” Éomer supplied and his cousin's gaze followed the direction he indicated. 

“He is not one of our men.” Théodred remarked. “Who is he?”

“We should ask him.” 

“Friend, we thank you for your help.” Théodred shouted over the field towards the silhouette of the man. The stranger had lowered his weapon and bowed slightly to acknowledge the words. He climbed skilfully down the rock and crossed the field, pulling his arrows out of the dead Orcs on his way and putting them back into his quiver. As he approached, Éomer noticed the leather clothes, the heavy cloak and the dark cloth that covered the lower part of the stranger's face. Only his eyes were visible and they were alert, but not hostile. His whole appearance was unusual for the Rohirrim ways and his gear let on that the man was travelling, from the bedroll on his back to the waterskin on his belt. 

The stranger came to halt a few steps away from him and Théodred and watched them with a steady gaze.

“You are a Ranger of the North.” Théodred remarked, more a statement than a question. He must have made the same observation as Éomer and obviously had come to the same conclusion.

The stranger nodded, but remained silent, the cloth and the hood still hiding the better part of his face. His eyes were intense, though, and made Éomer pay close attention to the man. Something felt off, but he could not put his finger on what had caused this feeling. 

“I would like to see the face of our supporter in a moment of need, and thank him personally.” Théodred's voice was sincere, he was aware that they would not have won without the Ranger's arrows.

The stranger watched Théodred intensely, then looked at Éomer and scanned the Rohirrim who had begun to gather behind them. Éomer felt as if the man assessed them, analysing if it was wise to show them his face. His posture was relaxed and his sword in its sheath, but Éomer was not so naive to think that the Ranger was not ready to defend himself at any moment. He behaved like a man who had been travelling alone, without anybody to guard his back, for a very long time.

“What is your name, friend?” Éomer asked, giving his voice the respectful tone worthy of a man who had come to their aid when he did not have to. The intense eyes fixed him for a moment, then the man looked back to Théodred and lifted his hands to his mask. He pushed back the hood of his cloak and pulled the cloth down around his neck, eyes never leaving Théodred, carefully observing his reaction. Éomer had to fight to prevent his surprise to show when he noticed the delicately chiselled features under a layer of dirt.

“I am Elgarain, daughter of Erdur.” A strong, calm voice said, and Éomer realised that the stranger spoke for the first time. He... _she_ had kept quiet before, obviously aware that her voice would give her secret away. She had dark brown hair that was tousled even though it was pulled back in a heavy braid, and her eyes held the same careful attention that Éomer had seen there before, now mixed with slight alertness that indicated she was ready to react to whatever came next.

Théodred recovered faster that Éomer did. He gave a slight, but respectful bow and said, “I thank you for your help, Elgarain daughter of Erdur. We owe you the victory.”

“You are welcome, son of Rohan.” The woman returned his bow, still watching him carefully. “May I enquire as to your name?”

“I am Théodred son of Théoden, King of Rohan, Second Marshall of the Mark, and this is my cousin, Éomer son of Éomund, Third Marshall of the Mark.” When his cousin presented him, Éomer bowed as well. He knew their men would follow Théodred's and his example, so they had to assure the stranger was shown the respect they owed her.

“Ride with us, Ranger.” Theodred offered. “We head for Edoras, our capital. You are welcome to join us in our journey and rest within the city walls.”

She seemed to think about it for a moment, then she inclined her head. “I am honoured to accept your invitation, my Lord.”

***

The clouds hung low over the lands and seemed to smother the country. Éowyn stood on the edge of the terrace of Meduseld and let her gaze travel over the wide planes. It was still better to be outside here than inside with that deceitful man who haunted her with his lustful gazes wherever she went. Grima Wormtongue sent unpleasant frissons down her spine, he was a threat she could not fight off and the only way to escape his gazes was to avoid him. 

When she noticed the Riders of Rohan crossing the planes, deep relief washed over her. Théodred and her brother were about to return, then, and their presence shielded her from Grima's hateful words and his unbearable closeness. He never dared to approach her when her cousin and her brother were around, it was too dangerous for him to defy both of them at the same time, and he knew it.

She watched the group of riders coming closer, recognizing the strong figures of her brother and her cousin easily. How she wished she could ride with them, could leave the walls of Edoras that had become more a prison than a home in the last years, could fight for Rohan the same way they could. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides and she tried to control the frustration and anger at the helplessness she felt whenever she was left behind. 

The riders passed the gate and came up the steep path to the Golden Hall at a measured pace. There must have been a fight, for Éowyn could see several horses carrying dead bodies and injured men, some horses were without a rider at all. She felt her heart grow heavy. More families had lost a father, a brother, a son or a husband today, and there was no end in sight.

Éomer and Théodred rode up to the stables, giving her a greeting nod from the distance. She was glad to see them both alive and well, as egoistic as it might be, she was relieved it had not been them who had fallen this time. It was when she watched her brother dismount that she became aware of the stranger who rode one of Rohan's horses and brought it to halt next to Éomer. He dismounted as well and padded the horse on the neck, gently caressing its fur and quietly talking to it. A cloth covered the lower part of his face, his head was covered in tousled dark brown hair in an untidy braid and his clothes were of a kind Éowyn had never seen before. Éomer turned to him and they exchanged some words that seemed to hold an easy camaraderie that she had seldom seen her brother show to anybody except Théodred and a few of his men. 

The stranger nodded at something Éomer had said and led his horse into the stables. Éowyn watched them and wondered who that person was. Just then Théodred came up the stairway to the Golden Hall and approached her, interrupting her thoughts. “Greetings, Éowyn. How are you?”

“Greetings.” She smiled at him, then she became serious again. “What happened?” 

“We were caught in an ambush.” Théodred said with a frown on his face. “It was a close call for us, but we received unexpected help.”

“From the stranger you brought with you?” 

“Aye.” he agreed and watched the stranger and Éomer leave the stables. “Those arrows saved not only my life, but those of all of our riders.” 

“Who is he?” Éowyn kept her gaze on the two men coming up the stairs towards her and Théodred. “He is no Rohirrim.”

Théodred remained silent until Éomer and the stranger had reached them. When the man came closer, Éowyn took in his ruffled appearance and his gear that made her think he ought be a traveller. 

Éomer and the man stopped in front of her and her brother gestured towards the stranger. “Éowyn, may I present to you Elgarain daughter of Erdur, Ranger of the North.” 

With astonishment, Éowyn watched the stranger pull down the cloth from the face and realised it was unmistakably a woman in front of her. She stood taller than Éowyn and her eyes were of an intense blue, her face was covered by a layer of dirt and her hair had neither been washed nor combed in a while, but a woman nonetheless.

“Elgarain, this is Éowyn daughter of Éomund, my sister.” 

The stranger bowed respectfully and kept her gaze on Éowyn's face. “It is a pleasure to meet you, my Lady.” 

Her voice was quiet, but clear and firm; it made a shiver run down Éowyn's spine. She was not certain she liked this woman, but she kept her thoughts to herself and returned the greeting in kind. “Welcome to Edoras, Ranger.”

“We have some time before dinner will be served. You are welcome to use our bathing facilities, Ranger. My sister will certainly find something clean for you to wear while your clothes are washed.” Éomer said and gave a little smile. “Feel free to ask for anything you need.”

“I thank you for your kindness, my Lord.” the woman replied with a tiny smile tugging at her lips. “I would certainly welcome the opportunity to clean myself and my clothes.”

“Come with me, then, Ranger.” Éowyn took on her responsibility as the hostess of Meduseld and made an inviting motion with her arm towards the entrance of the building. She led the way through the corridors of the Golden Hall towards the private bathing chambers in the back of the building and ordered a servant on her way to fill the massive wooden tub. The young girl nodded and hurried off. She returned only a moment later with soap, a comb and cloths, the boys with the hot water buckets in tow. It took a few minutes to fill the tub, then the servant maiden left them alone.

When Éowyn turned to look at her guest, she saw a little smile on the woman's lips who before she turned and gave a real smile. “A tub with hot water and soap. I have not had that luxury in a while.”

“I hope it pleases you.” Éowyn replied after a moment. The smile seemed to transform the whole face of the Ranger, seemed to make her softer, younger, more feminine; and it took the Rohirrim a second to regain her focus. Éowyn watched unobtrusively how the other woman undressed with the efficient and fast movements of a person who had learned that undressing made you vulnerable. “Do you wish for anything else, Ranger?”

The woman was about to lay down her leather waistcoat when she turned towards Éowyn. “Nay, my Lady. You have already provided me with more courtesy that I could have asked for.” 

“As I understand it, you saved my brother, my cousin and their men from defeat and death. I owe you more than a bath, my friend.” Her voice was serious, she meant every word. A life without her brother and her cousin would be unbearable.

The other woman inclined her head. “I provided the help that was needed, nothing more, my Lady.”

“We greatly appreciate it.”

The Ranger removed her clothes without the slightest sign of discomfort, Éowyn noticed. The tall woman pulled her tunic over her head and lay it down onto the chair next to her, then she removed her shirt, her boots and her trousers without hesitating once. Éowyn found herself fascinated by the lean beauty of the other woman and could not keep herself from watching her. She was not only taller than Éowyn herself, but also broader in build and stronger in muscles. There were several scars visible on her body, a particularly long one running from her shoulder blade down to her hip all along her left side. They looked like the remains of long healed injuries that Éowyn had seen on the warriors that were treated at the healers. Whatever life this woman led, she was no stranger to pain. The Ranger seemed completely unaware to Éowyn's scrutiny, stepped into the tub and slid down into the hot water with an utterly pleased sigh.

“This is bliss, my Lady.” she said, her eyes closed and a content smile on her lips. “I forgot how good a hot bath makes you feel.”

Éowyn smiled at those words that were so obviously sincere that it made her feel the joy the other woman experienced. “It is good the bath pleases you, Ranger. That was its purpose.”

A low chuckle came from the tub. “I thought its purpose was to make me lose the smell and the dirt of weeks of travelling.” 

Éowyn found herself return the chuckle. “That is a rather convenient side-effect, Ranger.” 

“I certainly agree with you, my Lady.” the woman said before she plunged her head under water. Éowyn saw her come up again, swiping the water out of her eyes and reaching for the soap. The layers of dirt that had covered her face were gone and showed a woman that was far more beautiful than Éowyn had expected. Long lashes, deep blue eyes and a handsome face that seemed much younger without the alert expression. 

“I will have your clothes washed and cleaned for you, Ranger.” Éowyn said quickly and looked away. She walked over to the chair where the other woman had lain down her clothes, neatly folded despite their filthy condition. She felt the urge to leave the room and let the Ranger finish her bath alone.

“I would greatly appreciate that, my Lady.” the other woman replied while she rubbed the soap into her long brown hair. “I thank you for your hospitality.”

Éowyn just nodded in acknowledgement and walked towards the door to leave the chambers. “I will be back shortly, Ranger. Enjoy the bath.”

Before she closed the door behind her, Éowyn heard the sound of splashing water that indicated the other woman had begun to rinse her hair. Gods knew she had needed a bath, Éowyn thought while she was walking towards the washing house where she gave the dirty clothes to a matronly servant woman. She gave her the order to work those garments with priority and have them brought to her chambers when they were dry. Before she made her way back to the bathing chamber, she passed her own chambers to gather some clothes for the other woman to wear until her own were washed. She chose a dark green dress, thinking it would perfectly suit the dark hair of the other woman, and took some other necessary garments with her and returned to the bathing chambers. 

She knocked and entered when she heard the Ranger ask her in. The tall woman had a broad cloth wrapped around her and was drying her hair with a second cloth. She stood by the fireplace, bare feet on the fur and back turned towards the warming fire. She was beautiful, Éowyn thought. Now that she was clean, her face was of a strong elegance, framed by the long dark strands that fell down to her hips in soft waves. She appeared much more feminine than she had in her dirty clothes with her hair uncombed and unwashed. 

Éowyn forced herself to look away and lay the clothes she had brought onto the bed. What was happening to her? She had never been this fascinated by another person before. “Here are some clothes for you, Ranger.”

She turned at the right moment to see the other woman look at the dark green dress on the chair with a tiny, wistful smile. “I have not worn a dress in years.”

“Why is that?” Éowyn asked in surprise before she could think better of it.

The Ranger turned her head and gave her a mild gaze. “I had no reason to look beautiful, but every reason not to, my Lady.”

“I do not understand.” Éowyn replied with a frown.

“I travel alone. I do not need to attract the attention of men who have been deprived of a women's flesh for too long.” The tall woman shrugged. “It makes life easier for me if men do not see me as an object of desire.”

That was a very good reason to stay dirty and hide her face under a layer of dust, Éowyn thought and nodded in understanding. 

“May I have some trousers and a tunic, my Lady?” The Ranger asked politely, watching her attentively.

Éowyn nodded after a moment and walked over to the door. “I will find something that fits you.”

“Thank you, my Lady.” she heard the Ranger say before the door to the chambers closed behind her. This woman from the North was strange indeed.

***

It felt fantastic to be clean again, to wear clothes that did not show the dirt of extensive travel and reeked due to the time spend without the possibility to wash. Elgarain allowed herself a content smile when she followed the Lady of Rohan trough the corridor towards the chambers she had been given for the night. She looked at the soft swing of the Lady's long blond hair at every step she made, at her lean frame that seemed to hold so much suppressed strength and at her straight posture that was like a silent defiance against the obstacles of her surroundings. 

When the Lady bid her a good night, Elgarain watched her leave through the corridor before she entered the chambers. There were her clothes on the bed, the woollen garments washed, the leather waistcoat shiny and clean. She folded the clothes and lay them onto the chair for the morning, removed her boots and her belt and lay down onto the bed, fully dressed. Another habit she had taken on over the long years of travel. She had forgotten the comforts of a home, she thought and stared at the wooden ceiling. When had she last had a place to come home to?

After leaving Arathorn and her village to take the post at Hithlin, she had not stayed anywhere for a longer period of time. Once she had heard of the destruction of her village by the Orcs and the death of Arathorn, a mixture of guilt and rage had taken possession of her and had not let her find peace anywhere. She had travelled to Rivendell to make sure little Aragorn and Lady Gilraen were all right, but she had stayed only shortly. The news of the death of Dirhaborn had devastated her further, losing her best friend on top of Arathorn and her home had been too much to bear. Often she had wondered if leaving had been the right choice, but there was nothing to gain by troubling herself with doubt, so she had tried to accept her choice and live with the consequences. 

With a deep sigh, Elgarain turned on her side and pulled the blanket over herself. It felt strange to sleep inside, the walls surrounding her, the smell and the sounds different, no open sky above her. She had always preferred the life in the wild to the comforts of a house and the thought to settle down had never even crossed her mind since that fateful day of her departure so many years ago. She had always believed her service as a Ranger to be her destiny, it had given her life a meaning, protecting the peoples of Eriador had been her duty. In the course of the evening, she had found herself feel the same urge towards the Lady of Rohan, the wish to protect her and keep her safe. It was a strange reaction to a woman she had met only hours ago, a woman she thought strong and resolute and who yet seemed to be so defenceless against the powers at work here in Rohan. 

Elgarain was sure that earlier this afternoon, she had seen a glimpse of the woman that lived hidden under the Lady's cold demeanour. She had heard her chuckle, had seen her smile and had noticed the Lady watching her with hidden curiosity. But once they had left the secure isolation of the chambers, the young woman had pulled a silent and cold shell around herself that had not lifted again. It had not taken Elgarain long to find the reason for this behaviour. The oppressing atmosphere that seemed to lie over the whole of the city had been palpable from the first moment she had entered Edoras, but at dinner, it had been obvious where it came from. The King of Rohan seemed to be controlled by the hushed words of this spineless councillor of his, Grima Wormtongue, if she remembered the name correctly. 

Elgarain had watched Master Theodred and Master Éomer sit at dinner with clenched teeth, knowing their King was not himself and not being able to do anything against it. But who suffered most under the spiteful Councillor was Lady Éowyn, Elgarain realised quickly. He seemed to desire her, his greedy eyes followed her every move, his foul presence was always close to her and his words were aimed to hurt her, to break her. She seemed to be untouched and cold, ignoring the man the best she could, yet Elgarain disliked how the reserved yet friendly woman had turned into an unapproachable, silent stranger in her own home.

With a frown on her face, Elgarain turned again. She found it difficult to find sleep tonight. She wondered if that was caused by the unsettling thoughts about the Lady of Rohan that did not leave her mind. She had never before been so instantly fascinated by another person, and apart from little Aragorn, she had never been driven by such a strong urge to protect another person. There was something special about the Lady of Rohan, but she could not say what it was. 

When morning came, Elgarain was awake and dressed before the first rays of the sun had touched the horizon. She left her chambers and walked over to the hall, still unsure how to go on. She had not yet decided if she should leave or stay in Edoras. When she entered the hall, she saw Master Éomer sit at one of the large tables, silently eating breakfast. She walked over to the Rohirrim, greeted him and followed his invitation to eat with him. Some bread, cheese and a bowl of milk were set in front of her and Elgarain began her breakfast in content silence. She rarely had such good food when she travelled, so she enjoyed every bite. 

During the ride back to Edoras, Elgarain had spent a lot of time with Master Éomer and she had found she liked him. He had proved to be far more talkative when there was no immediate threat upon them and they had led some interesting conversations at the fire when they had camped for the night. This morning, tough, he was very quiet and Elgarain had the feeling that the oppressing atmosphere over Edoras quenched every sense of well-being. She saw the plump form of the King's Councillor enter the hall and sit at the head of the table, harshly demanding the servant maiden to bring him food. Elgarain tried to rein her snarl, but it must have shown for Master Éomer stopped eating to look at her.

“I see you share my opinion.” the Rohirrim remarked quietly before he took a bite of his bread.

“He desires your sister.” Elgarain said instead of an answer and pointed at the Councillor with a slight jerk of her chin.

“I know he does.” Master Éomer let out a noise between a sigh and a growl. “But there is not much I can do. Grima has the King's ear, as you have most likely realised, and as long as he does not come close to my sister, I cannot risk attacking him publicly. I have been doing so privately for a long time now, but he gains in power.”

“She defies him in silent protest every moment of his presence.” she said with a frown. “Your sister is a very strong person, Lord Éomer.”

“Aye, she is.” This time, his sigh held all the desperation he felt for not being able to help her. “I just hope she can hold on for some time longer, the time of dearth is not over yet.”

“I vow to protect her.” Elgarain heard herself say without thinking about her words. They surprised her, yet they felt right, so she went on. “If there is somebody with her, he will keep his distance. I can be around her in a way you cannot.”

Out of the corner of her eyes, Elgarain saw the Rohirrim turn and watch her with a gaze that held surprise as well as gratefulness. “You would do that?”

“Aye, I would.” She turned her face towards him and nodded. “And I will.”

Master Éomer returned the nod slowly. “I owe you my thanks yet again, my friend. She is very dear to me.”

“I know.” Elgarain took up a piece of bread and dipped it in the milk. “She is special.”

“I have not seen her laugh in a very long time.” Master Éomer said, his voice coloured with regret. “The times have changed a lot.”

“Aye, they have.” Elgarain agreed and a flash of memory of her youth in her village passed her mind. “Nothing has been left untouched by the spread of evil.”

 

***tbc


	2. Chapter 2

[ ](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/nanuk_dain/16335757/92742/92742_original.jpg)

The day was dark, clouds had covered the sky since the early morning, but the rain had ceased sometime around noon. The air was cool on his skin, the wind seemed to cut through the tunic, but Éomer did not care at all. He urged Firefoot on faster towards the courtyard in front of the Golden Hall. Theodred swayed in front of him in the saddle, a limp figure, and his bonelessness made Éomer's skin crawl in dread. Firefoot came to an abrupt halt right in front of the stairway to Meduseld and Éomer dismounted without ever letting go of his firm grip on his cousin. He lifted the limp body out of the saddle, carried him up the stairs and hurried past the guards without paying them any attention. Once he had arrived in Théodred's chambers, he gently set the limp body of his cousin down onto the bed.

Only a second later, Éowyn appeared in the doorway, her face a mask of terror and fear. She rushed forwards to the side of the bed and understood immediately when Éomer's gaze met hers, conveying more than words could have. She lifted the corner of Theodred's tunic and saw the undertunic was blood-soaked at the waist. She obviously fought to keep her calm, then she lay her hand onto Theodred's forehead and caressed his skin. Éomer knew how cold it was to the touch, he had taken care of Theodred during the trip, and he could see the realisation hit his sister. There was nothing that could be done to help their cousin. 

“We have to tell him.” Éowyn said silently, her voice sounding defeated. She knew as well as he did that their uncle would not react to their words, that he was so deep under Grima's influence that even the news of his son dying would not reach his clouded mind. Éomer hated the resigned sound of her voice with passion, hated how his sister had become reserved and cold over the past years and felt helpless rage wash over him. He should have been able to protect her, to protect her smile and her laughter. But he had not.

“Aye, we have to tell him.” Éomer agreed and got up. His sister followed him to the great hall where their uncle sat on his throne, slouching slightly to one side, all tension seemed to have left his body, his gaze clouded, his face stunned. Éomer clenched his teeth when he noticed Wormtongue enter the hall and weasel over to the King's side. The day would come when he would crush the spineless coward, Éomer swore to himself. Make him suffer for all the pain he had caused his sister, his uncle and their country.

Éowyn approached their uncle and talked to him in her quiet voice, but just as Éomer had expected, there was no reaction to her words. His own report of the events that had led to Théodred's injury did not have any more effect, and Éomer felt overwhelmed by the helpless rage that took hold of him. Grima talked into the King's ear and turned every one of their words against them in this quiet, spiteful way of his.

“Why do you lay these troubles on an already troubled mind?” The Councillor asked with obviously fake concern. “Can you not see? Your uncle is wearied by your malcontent, your warmongering.”

“Warmongering?” Éomer felt the rage get the better of him and he had the worm pinned against the pillar before anybody could react. It felt incredibly good to see the fear in the man's eyes, the moment the realisation dawned that Éomer could kill him right now if he decided to do so. The Rohirrim shook him just for the satisfaction of it and asked through clenched teeth, “How long is it since Saruman bought you? What was the promised price, Gríma? When all the men are dead, you will take your share of the treasure?”

When Grima's eyes searched the hall and rested on his sister, Éomer needed all his discipline not to choke him right then and there. “Too long have you watched my sister, too long have you haunted her steps.”

The spineless man just smiled smugly and a second later, Éomer felt hands grab him and pull him back with force. He turned his head and saw several men who were known to be loyal to the Councillor, two of them holding onto Éomer's arms in a firm grip that he could not loosen with his struggle. A fist connected with his stomach and made him double over and fight for breath. He jerked his head up in defiance and looked back at Grima, baring his teeth in fury.

“You see much Éomer, Son of Éomund. Too much.” The man straightened his clothes and looked very much satisfied with the development of the situation. “You are banished forthwith from the kingdom of Rohan and all its domains. Under pain of death!”

Éomer just snorted. “You have no authority here. Your orders mean nothing.”

His word were answered with another punch, but the pain was nothing in comparison to what he experienced when he read the document that ordered his banishment, signed by his uncle in scratchy writing. He knew this was Grima's influence, that his uncle was not himself, but it hurt nonetheless. The last thing Éomer saw before he was dragged out of the Golden Hall was how the Ranger stepped up behind his sister, like a protecting shadow. It reassured him more than words could have; he knew Éowyn was safe as long as Elgarain was with her, she would not give Grima any opportunity to approach his sister. 

He owed the Ranger a debt higher than he could ever hope to repay. 

***

Éowyn stood at the edge of the terrace and watched with horror how her brother was forced down the stairs by a several guards loyal to Grima. She took a deep breath to regain her composure and tried not to think about what it meant to remain in Edoras with Theodred dead, Éomer banned and her uncle under Grima's spell. She suppressed as shiver and fought the intense desire to follow her brother and his eored who were about to leave the city. 

“You are not alone, my Lady.” Éowyn heard the Ranger whisper close to her ear. “I promised your brother that I would keep you safe, and I will do so.”

Éowyn remained silent. She had noticed how the Ranger and her brother seemed to get along very well, they had spent a lot of time together since the arrival of the other woman about a week ago. Why the Ranger had remained in Edoras and had not left after the first night had been a mystery to Éowyn. The tall woman had become a quiet but constant presence in the city and Éowyn had noticed that the Ranger was always around her, wherever she went. Now she understood why she had stayed, it was the promise to Éomer who must have expected something like this to happen, something that would keep him form protecting her himself from Grima's presence. Éowyn was secretly grateful for this arrangement, but she felt unable to say so.

The riders grew smaller in the distance and Éowyn followed their trail with a frown. There was nothing she could do for her brother now, she could only see that her cousin was properly buried in the tradition of the ancestors. She took a deep breath, then she turned and walked briskly back into the hall and towards Theodred's chambers, leaving the Ranger outside. In the doorway, Éowyn stopped and looked at the motionless face of her cousin, his eyes closed, his face peaceful despite the bruise at the side of his forehead. She felt the tears burn in her eyes and swallowed against the lump in her throat, slowly taking the last steps towards the bed. A sob rose in her chest and she sagged down on the fur in front of the bed, her hand grabbed the cold fingers of her cousin.

Theodred was dead, he would never laugh with her again, never ride over the planes with her, never share a meal with her and Éomer like they had done so often. The epiphany nearly made her choke in pain, but the shadow of Grima at the door kept her from showing the weakness. She felt his foul presence approach and mentally prepared for the spiteful words she knew were about to come. He rejoiced at Theodred's death, she was certain of that. And he would take pleasure in letting her know how much his grip on Rohan and on her had grown with the death of her cousin and the banishment of her brother.

“Oh, he must have died sometime during the night. What a tragedy for the King to lose his only son and heir.” she heard him say, his voice coloured with false pity. He came closer, sat on the bed and she felt his hand on her shoulder. His touch made her skin crawl and at the same moment, she felt the overwhelming urge to push him off the bed where her cousin lay. “I understand his passing is hard to accept, especially now that your brother has deserted you.”

His words fired her repulse and Éowyn followed the urge to jump to her feet and shed the unwelcome touch of the spiteful man. “Leave me alone, snake!” she shouted and glared at him through the tears she felt in her eyes.

“Oh, but you are alone!” he said, his voice triumphant. He obviously wanted to say more, but he was cut off by the appearance of the Ranger in the doorway. Éowyn watched the tall woman enter the room, slowly and without saying a word, her gaze focussed on Grima, her eyes full of silent threat. He instinctively backed away several steps, aware of the aura of power that surrounded the Ranger like a cloak. 

“What are you doing here, stranger?” Grima asked with open hostility in his voice.

“I am here to stand by the Lady in her grief.” Éowyn had noticed how the Ranger always left out any form of courtesy when she addressed the man. There was little Grima could say to this that would not result in offence, and he obviously did not want to risk an open confrontation. 

“What a kind offer, Ranger.” he said with a fake smile that made Éowyn want to choke him once and for all. “But you are a stranger to the Rohirrim ways and you cannot provide accurate help, therefore your service will not be needed.”

“Aye, it will be needed.” Éowyn interrupted, voice firm, gaze focussed on the snake with all the hatred she felt towards him. 

Grima gave a smile that was as spineless as his whole character and bowed slightly. “I will leave you to tend to your cousin, then, my Lady.”

He turned and left the room with brisk steps that betrayed his anger at the Ranger's interference, and Éowyn was secretly pleased about it. She knew he would find a way to get back at them for this defeat, but the feeling to have won over him for once was worth it. 

“Thank you, Ranger.” Éowyn said quietly and turned towards the bed where her cousin lay.

“What for, my Lady?” she heard the gentle voice of the other woman behind her, felt her reassuring presence some steps behind her.

“I know your presence keeps Grima at bay.” Éowyn turned and looked at the woman, wanting to show her the sincerity of her gratitude. It was just now that she had realised how much the Ranger's silent presence had kept Grima away from her. “You know he will try everything to get rid of you. You have made yourself a powerful enemy.”

“I am well aware of that. Still, I will make sure he does not come close to you, my Lady.” The underlying threat in her voice let Éowyn know that the Ranger would not shy away from physical actions should they be necessary. Somehow Éowyn felt reassured by this resolution, but it also angered her that she felt as if she needed a defender against this spineless worm Grima.

***

Things had got worse since the banishment of Master Éomer. Elgarain had known all men loyal to Éomer and his dead cousin would leave with their leader, and that left Edoras with hardly any opposer to the spineless Councillor's orders. He had basically taken over the city and submitted it to his will without any real resistance. The people were wary and scared and there were no men left to fight Grima's henchmen. Those who could have were bound to the clouded-minded king by honour and loyalty and had to follow the orders they were given, but Elgarain knew Háma the doorward and his men mistrusted the Councillor. Still, Elgarain made sure she was always within sight of the Lady, she expected Wormtongue to make his move every moment.

The day was grey yet again and the clouds hung low. Elgarain was standing on the edge of the terrace, watching Lady Éowyn who was down in the courtyard and talking to some women of the city, when Elgarian noticed the approach of a group of riders. They were still quite far away and she squinted to have a better look. There was something familiar to them, but she could not say what it was. She split her attention between the Lady in the courtyard and the approaching riders until the Lady bid farewell to the other woman and entered Meduseld. Reluctantly, Elagarain followed her in some distance. She would have liked to know who those riders were. But she was certain she would find out soon, for they headed to Edoras and would be welcomed in the hall. The worm would never allow strangers in the city without inspecting them closely and assure they could not endanger his power. 

Her assumption proved to be correct. She had been in the corridor in front of the kitchen where the Lady was talking to the cook about the arrangements for Lord Theodred's funeral feast when a young servant maiden hurried past her and approached the Lady. 

“My Lady!” The girl gave a quick bow. “Four strangers have arrived and there was a fight in the hall!”

“What?” The Rohirrim frowned, then she turned on her heel and hurried out of the kitchen and towards the hall. Elgarain had anticipated this when she heard the maiden's words and followed the other woman immediately. She reached the hall but a second after the Lady who had stopped to assess the situation. Elgarain took all in within the blink of an eye. She recognised two of the strangers immediately, even though she had not seen them in a long time. Gandalf the wizard, whom she had met on several occasions, stood in from of the King's throne, robed in white what immediately told her he had become a powerful White Wizard. Behind him were three warriors, an Elf and a Dwarf who she did not know, and a Man whom she recognised as young Aragorn without any problem. Gandalf had his staff raised to the King and murmured under his breath and Elgarain understood that the time of King Théoden's nightmare was over.

Out of the corner of the eye, Elgarain noticed the Lady was about to hurry towards her uncle, ready to defend him till the end. With two quick steps, Elgarain approached her and took hold of her arm, keeping her in place. The woman turned, an angry expression on her face, but Elgarain just shook her head. “Wait, my Lady. They mean no harm.”

“How can you know?” the Rohirrim snapped back and struggled against her hold.

“I know them, my Lady.” she replied with total confidence in her voice, knowing that the Lady was more likely to react to intangible reassurance than to actual words. True to her expectation, the Lady stopped struggling after a long firm gaze, but she remained tense, ready to bolt at any moment, and Elgairain kept her grip firm. She knew that it was essential that Gandalf finished whatever it was he was doing to free the King, and she would make sure the young Lady did not interfere. 

Suddenly, the King made for a leap at Gandalf and was met with the wizard's staff. He was thrown back into his throne and when he slowly sagged forwards, Elgarain loosened her grip on the Lady's arm. The woman ran towards her uncle immediately and caught his fall, pushing him back and holding him upright while his gaze slowly cleared and the colour returned to his skin. When he spoke, it became obvious that the spell had been broken and for the first time, Elgarain saw the Lady smile broadly, relief and happiness written all over her face. It felt good to see her like this and Elgarain felt her lips curve into a little satisfied smile. 

It felt even better to see the spineless Councillor be thrown down the stairway to the Golden Hall, even though Elgarain would have preferred to have pushed him herself. She wanted him to suffer for all the pain he had caused to the Lady and her family. She personally wanted to make him pay for stealing Lady Éowyn's smile. When Aragorn prevented the King from delivering the final blow, she growled and bared her teeth in a snarl. She highly disagreed with her fellow Ranger on the fate of the worm, she would have killed the spineless coward herself given the opportunity. She had seen him haunt Lady Éowyn every second of the day for too long to feel any mercy towards him. 

When King Théoden asked for his son and Lady Éowyn told him about his death, tears in her eyes and her smile gone, Elgarain hated the Councillor with such intensity that she was tempted to ride after him and finish what Aragorn had prevented. The funeral of Théodred that the Lady had been preparing was conducted only hours later. Elgarain stood in the background and watched the body of King's son being carried through the city and towards the tomb hills outside the city walls. She had only known the man for a very short period of time, but she had liked him and she knew how much he had meant to Éowyn and her brother. He had been a good man who had died way before his time, she thought and looked over to the Lady who was taking a deep breath and then began to sing. It must have been some kind of death lament, Elgarain mused and felt goosebumps spread over her body at the raw grief in the Lady's beautiful dark voice. She could feel her pain in every word, in every tone she sang, and Elgarain knew everybody sensed it and shared her grief. 

It was only afterwards that Elgarain had the opportunity to approach Aragorn. He had already recognised her in the Golden Hall and had given her a smile, obviously surprised to meet her in the capital of Rohan under such circumstances. But there had been no time to even greet each other in kind, too much had been happening at once. Now that they met in the hall to eat something, she saw the moment come to greet him and his companions. She spotted the small group at a table, the Dwarf and Aragorn smoking their pipes while they talked to each other quietly. She approached them slowly and as soon as Aragorn noticed her presence in the hall, he got up and walked over to her.

“It is good to see you again, my friend.” Aragorn said with a real smile on his lips and pulled her into a fierce hug. Elgarain returned the gesture and laughed gently.

“It has been a long time, Aragorn.” She pulled back and grinned teasingly. “You have grown.”

“Well, that happens with the passing of time, my old friend.” He chuckled. “I may say, though, that you have not aged a bit.”

Her grin deepened. “Charming as always, my friend. I thank you for your kind words.”

“Join us at the table, Elgarain.” he offered and they walked back to where the other three men were sitting, watching the reunion.

“Elgarain, my dear friend.” Gandalf welcomed her with a smile. “We have not see in a while.”

“It has been over a decade, if I am not mistaken.” she agreed and sat down next to the Dwarf. A servant maiden came and set a bowl with soup and some bread down in front of her. Elgarain thanked her with a quick smile and began to eat. She had no noticed how hungry the events of the day had made her. 

“So tell us, my friend, how have you come to Edoras at this time?” Gandalf asked and lit his pipe.

“I happened to come across a party of Rohirrim fighting a losing battle with several hordes of Orcs and Uruk-Hai when I crossed these lands. I provided some help by shooting the creatures.” Elgarain replied and dipped a piece of bread in the soup. “Master Théodred and Master Éomer invited me to Edoras and I agreed.”

“How come you are still here long after both of them are gone?” the Dwarf asked and blew some smoke through his nose. 

“I promised Master Éomer to keep an eye on his sister.” she explained and chewed on the bread. “This spineless coward of a Councillor had been lusting after her for a long time, it seems, and with Master Théodred dead and Master Éomer banished, I stayed close to her to assure he would not try anything.”

Aragorn frowned. “He did not do so, did he?”

“He would have been long dead at the point of your arrival if he had.” Elgarain said, voice cold. 

“I see.” Gandalf looked at her for a moment and she felt as if he was able to look into her very soul. The wizard had always had that effect on her and she was not certain she liked it. She could not think about it any longer, though, because the King entered the Golden Hall and looked at them before he sat down on his throne.

“I meant to ask for some time now who you are, Mistress.” the King addressed her with a frown on his face. “Your face does not appear familiar to me, yet everybody in Edoras seems to know you.”

Elgarain got up and bowed to him as respect demanded. “I am Elgarain, daughter of Erdur, my Lord. I am a Ranger from the North.”

“She came to help when Éomer and Théodred and their eored were ambushed.” Lady Éowyn, who was just entering the hall, informed him. “They invited the Ranger to Edoras.”

Elgarain saw King Théoden look at his niece for a long moment and she returned his gaze evenly. He nodded slowly and refrained from asking why the Ranger was still around now, but Elgarain suspected he would ask the Lady later in private. He did not seem to be a man who liked to be kept in the dark, especially after the long time he had spent under Saruman's spell. “Well then, Elgarain daughter of Erdur, I thank you for the assistance and welcome you in my hall.”

Elgarain bowed again. “I thank you for your hospitality, my King.”

Before anything else could be said, Háma entered the Golden Hall in a quick stride that spoke of urgency. He walked up to the King and bowed. “My King, two children arrived from the Westfold. They report that they escaped the burning of their village by Wildman and Orcs.”

The King sat up straight and frowned. “Bring them before me. I want to know exactly what happened.”

The doorward nodded and had the children brought in. Elgarain could see they were dead on their feet and scared, their eyes tired yet alert. They were obviously siblings, the boy keeping his little sister protectively behind him. Before the King could even address them, Lady Éowyn hurried over and hunched down in front of them, ordering soup and bread for the children as soon as she had looked at them. Elgarain watched her exchange a gaze with her uncle and he seemed to understand what she was doing. The children would be too scared to talk if he approached them directly, so he left it to her to talk to them quietly, wrap them in warm blankets and provide some direly needed food. 

It was interesting to watch her, Elgarain thought, following the events silently from where she had sat down on a the bench once Háma had entered the hall. Lady Éowyn did not exactly fuss over the children, she treated them with exactly the right balance of care and respect that made them opened up to her and tell her what had happened. The little girl had tears in her eyes and gratefully huddled in the Lady's comforting embrace, but she bravely continued telling all she had seen. 

Once the children had fallen silent, focussed on their food, the Lady got up and repeated what she had been told. Elgarain listened with a worried frown. The Wildmen burning and pillaging in the west, Orcs in the south. It was obvious where the threat was coming from, and she listened to Gandalf pointing out what everybody in the hall thought. Saruman and Sauron were heading to take Rohan, war was about to come over these lands. Fighting back and defending their kingdom was the Rohirrim's only option.

“We will leave for Helm's Deep tomorrow.” the King decided instead. Elgarain's frown deepened, she shared Aragorn's opinion that the fight was inevitable. The fortress was a trap for everybody inside if the defences failed and she did not want to think about what would happen to the people of Rohan in that case. She could read the same thoughts in Gandalf's and Aragorn's eyes. They had all seen too many battles to believe in the safety Helm's Deep seemed to offer, but it was obvious that there was nothing they could do to sway King Théoden's decision. 

The Lady rose from where she had been sitting next to the children when a maiden came to escort them to the quarters they had been given with the cook, a friendly middle aged woman that Elgarain had met several times. It was the best that could be done for them at the moment. 

“I will retire for the night, uncle.” Lady Éowyn said and gave her uncle a short smile. There was a tension in her expression, in her whole body, that Elgarain had noticed building up throughout the day. She felt as if the Lady was keeping all her feelings inside, under the strict control she had learned to hold up over the past years, but it seemed to be taking her a lot more strength than before.

“Aye, Éowyn, do that.” the King replied and gave her a kiss on the forehead with a gentle smile. “It was a long and tiring day. For all of us.”

She bowed her head and nodded, not looking at him. “So it was, uncle.”

The Rohirrim turned and left the hall towards her chambers. Elgarain watched her with a worried glance and decided to follow her. The worm might not be around anymore and the Lady did not need protection within these walls any longer, but the urge to keep her safe and well was still as strong as before. 

“I will retire as well, my King.” Elgarain said and bowed slightly towards the King. 

“Good night, Ranger.” His voice was even, but he looked at her with a slightly suspicious gaze and again she had the impression that he had not yet decided if she was trustworthy or not. It did not anger her, though, she was used to the mistrust of men. And King Théoden was a very traditional man, it was to be expected that he had difficulties accepting her as equal to the men around her. 

Elgarain held his gaze for a moment longer before she nodded and left the hall through the same door the Lady had used. The path to the Rohirrim's chambers was short and when Elgarain arrived in front of the door, she stopped and knocked gently. 

“Come in.” she heard the calm voice of Lady Éowyn come from inside and following the invitation, Elgarain pushed the wooden door open. The Rohirrim stood by the window and had turned to see who came to see her. When she recognised Elgarain, the Ranger saw her tense posture had relaxed a notch. 

“What can I do for you, Ranger?” she asked and Elgarain watched how she straightened up and came towards her.

“Your uncle is back from his nightmare, the worm is gone, and yet you seem very tense. Even more than before.” Elgarain said quietly and watched the Lady closely. “I was wondering if there was anything _I_ could do for _you_ , my Lady.”

Lady Éowyn remained silent and Elgarain saw surprise in the blue eyes. She was obviously not used to somebody taking care of her and Elgarain could not help to wonder when the Rohirrim had last truly let down her guard. It must have been very long time ago. 

“My Lady?” Elgarain asked gently when the Lady Éowyn just stayed where she was, quiet and unmoving, as if she did not know how to react to such an offer. Elgarain took a step towards her and saw her take a deep, shaky breath. Suddenly her face was vivid with emotion, her eyes held so much pain, sadness, fear and grief that Elgarain felt overwhelmed just watching her. Lady Éowyn took another deep breath and obviously tried to reign her emotions, but Elgarain knew they needed out before the other woman suffocated. So she closed the remaining distance between them and simply enfolded the Lady in a gentle embrace, something she was certain had not happened in a very long time.

“Let go, my Lady.” Elgarain murmured into the soft hair and put one hand on the Lady's neck, pulling her closer. “Let go.”

She felt a shudder go through the slender body and with the next, shaky breath, all tension seemed to leave her and Lady Éowyn sagged against her, the arms wrapping around Elgarain's waist, the head buried against her shoulder. Elgarain felt tears against the skin of her neck, felt sobs shake the Rohirrim, but no sound escaped the Lady's mouth. She felt the hands that clawed into her tunic, holding on with the strength of desperation. Now that the immediate danger of the situation had eased and the tension had lessened, the Lady's defences crumbled under the relief and she finally broke down after years of carefully upholding her guard. 

When the Lady's legs gave out, Elgarain tightened her hold and let the two of them slide down onto the fur that covered the floor. Her hand caressed the Lady's hair in a soothing motion and she did not say anything, just offered silent comfort and support. She felt the Lady's warm breath against her neck and it took a long while before the tension slowly eased out of the slender body and the firm grip of the arms around her loosened a bit. Elgarain tried to pull back a bit so she could see the Lady's face, but Éowyn followed her move, all weight resting against her. 

“My Lady?” Elgarain asked quietly. There was no answer and it took her a moment to understand that Lady Éowyn had fallen asleep right here on the floor. She must have been exhausted far beyond her limits, Elgarain thought with a worried glance and did not stop caressing the soft strands under her fingers. She wondered how long the Rohirrim had lived with this constant feeling of being unsafe in her own home, how long she had closed herself off of the world surrounding her in order to protect herself. Lady Éowyn was an exceptionally strong woman, Elgarain mused and smiled gently at her charge in her arms, and now the Lady had reached her limits and felt safe enough to let down her guard. Elgarain would make sure to protect her in her vulnerability.

She rose, carefully picked up the smaller woman and carried her over to the broad bed. She set her down, placing her head on the pillow and pulling the heavy blankets over her. For a split second, Elgarain wondered if she should leave, but then, she would not have wanted to wake up alone after such an emotional ordeal, and the Lady had trusted her enough to give up her control, so she obviously did not wish to be left alone either. Elgarain sat down onto the bed and removed her boots, then she shrugged off her waistcoat and hung it over the chair before she lay down next to the sleeping woman. She rolled onto her side and watched the pale face, now relaxed in sleep, eyes red from crying and traces of tears across her cheeks. Elgarain slowly raised her hand and wiped the traces away with her thumb. 

She would do whatever was necessary to keep the Lady safe, in body and mind.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RL is very demanding right now and work leaves me almost no time, but I had this finished for a while and since I have internet at the moment, I thought I'd post it ^^ Enjoy!

[ ](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/nanuk_dain/16335757/92742/92742_original.jpg)

It was habit that woke her at the break of dawn. Éowyn opened her eyes slowly and blinked a few times. Through the window, she could see that the sky had turned into the faint blue of the early morning, the first touch of orange could be seen at the horizon. The air in the chambers was fresh and crisp and made her feel more awake with every breath she took.

She felt comfortable and well rested, and it took her a moment to realise that she was not alone in her bed. At first, she noticed that her head did not rest on her pillow but on a shoulder, then she felt the weight of an arm around her back and sensed soft hair under her fingers. She looked at her hand and saw that her fingers were wrapped around a long strand of dark brown hair. 

She immediately knew it was Elgarain she had cuddled up against. A moment later, the memories of her breakdown the night before came rushing back. Éowyn groaned, half in embarrassment and half in relief, and instinctively hid her face against Elgarain's neck. 

The previous day had strained her composure more than all the years before had; the relief of seeing her uncle leave Grima's spell, the burial of her cousin, the immediate threat of war and the decision to leave Edoras for Helm's Deep. It had been too much, and when she had faced the Ranger's open concern, her sincere friendliness and worry, she had felt all strength and control leave her, reducing her to an emotional wreck. She had known this was bound to happen sooner or later, but she had never expected it to be in front of a person who was almost still a stranger. She had expected to be alone. 

Éowyn took a deep breath and stared at the brown strand of hair she still held loosely in her hand. She had come to trust the Ranger within the past few weeks, she thought. She couldn't explain why, but she did indeed trust this foreign woman with her life. Maybe it was instinct, maybe it was the time she had spend with her, but no matter what it was, she knew deep down that she could count on the Ranger to have her back in whatever situation. It was strange to be so certain about this – it was a feeling she had only ever had about her brother and her cousin, and since she had grown up with them, she had known them all her life. 

Éowyn slowly raised her head until she was propped up on her left elbow and looked down at the sleeping face of the Ranger. When there was no dirt obscuring her features and her hair was washed and combed, it was easy to see her femininity. She had a full lips under the strong line of her nose and there was a peacefulness on her face that made her appear young and innocent in a way Éowyn had not seen before. She was beautiful, Éowyn thought not for the first time, and she suddenly understood the Ranger's usual untidy appearance that took away so much of that alluring beauty. 

In sleep, a dark brown curl of her long hair had fallen over her right eye, and Éowyn was surprised by the sudden urge to push it back. She had her hand raised and was about to touch the skin of the other woman's cheekbone when she realised what she was doing and stopped the motion mid-air. She had no right to touch her. They were not that familiar, they had only known each other for a few weeks. Yet, there was this feeling of trust, of connection, of _knowing_. She had, after all, allowed the Ranger to see her cry and had trusted her to hold her and keep her safe. It had not been a conscious decision, yet she had never doubted it to be the right one. 

Slowly, carefully, Éowyn let her hand descend until she felt soft skin under her fingertips and stroke the strand of hair back with a feather light touch. The Ranger's eyes fluttered and she gave a little sound. When Éowyn pulled her hand back, the clear blue gaze found the hers. 

“Good morning, my Lady.” she heard the Ranger's quiet voice, still a little rough from sleep. 

“Good morning, Ranger.” Éowyn replied equally quiet as to not destroy the peaceful atmosphere of the early morning. She did not move, did not break her gaze. There was a comfortable quality to the moment, as if this was not the first morning they had woken up together, and Éowyn felt strangely at ease with her body pressed alongside the Ranger's. 

“My name is Elgarain. I would be honoured if you used it.”

“Good morning, Elgarain.” Éowyn repeated and gave a tentative smile. She liked the feeling of the name on her tongue, it was like caressing the woman herself. Elgarain held her gaze and there was a content little smile tugging on the corners of her lips. 

“I hope you feel better, my Lady.” she said, making no move to get up. She seemed comfortable lying on the bed looking up at Éowyn.

“Aye, I do.” The Rohirrim was silent for a while and averted her gaze, before she looked back. “Thank you.” 

Elgarain gave her a serious but gentle look and there was a reassuring touch of a hand on her back. “You are most welcome, my Lady.”

Éowyn nodded and secretly enjoyed the touch. It made her feel welcome and encouraged her to ask a question that had been in her mind ever since the strangers had arrived at Meduseld. “I was wondering, Elgarain, why you trusted the White Wizard and his companions to do no harm to my uncle?”

“I have met him on several occasions.” the Ranger replied without hesitation. “Gandalf is a trustworthy and honourable man and I knew he would not have come to cause harm to your uncle. Especially considering the obvious dark influence the King was under, I was certain Gandalf was here to free him.”

Éowyn nodded slowly. She understood the reasoning and her own impression of the wizard accorded with what Elgarain had said. “And Master Aragorn? You seem to know him, too.”

“Aye, I do.” Tiny laugh lines appeared around Elgarain's eyes as she smiled. “I was trained by his father. I left the village when Aragorn was but a child.”

Éowyn could not help a surprised frown. “How is that possible? You seem younger than Master Aragorn.”

Elgarain chuckled. “That is a common misconception. We are both of Númenorean blood, my Lady. We age slower than other humans.”

“You are one of the Dúnedain, then?”

“Aye, I am.”

The Rohirrim was silent for a moment. “May I ask you something, Elgarain?”

The Ranger nodded. “Certainly.”

“If you knew Aragorn when he was but a child, how old are you, then?”

Elgarain's smile widened and there seemed to be a teasing edge to it. “I could let you guess.”

Éowyn frowned again, but there was a smile tugging at her lips. “I would certainly be wrong, as I thought you were about my age.”

Elgarain laughed, open and real. The sound made a pleasant shiver spread over Éowyn's skin, starting at her neck and running all down to the tips of her fingers. “I am quite a bit older than you are, my Lady.”

“How much older?” 

Elgarain smirked. “Almost a century.”

“A century?” Éowyn gasped in surprise. She could not help scanning the woman next to her with her gaze. “You certainly do not look it.”

“Thank you, my Lady.” Elgarain grinned and there was mirth shining in her eyes. “As I said, the Dúnedain age slower.” 

“So, exactly how old are you, then?” Éowyn could not help asking.

“A hundred and nineteen this summer.” 

“Oh.”

“Aye, my Lady. I told you I was quite a bit older.” Elgarain chuckled and even through her stunned surprise, Éowyn noticed how much she wanted to hear that sound again. It made goosebumps spread over her skin, it made her feel warm and welcome and safe. 

“We should get ready for departure.” the Ranger remarked with a gaze at the sky that was indicating the sun had begun to rise. “The King will want to leave within the hour.”

“Aye, you are right.” Reluctantly, Éowyn shifted away from the comfortable warmth of Elgarain's body and sat up. “We should eat breakfast and pack what needs to be taken with us. Much is left to do.”

An unpleasant sensation passed through Éowyn when she felt the warmth of Elgarain's hand disappear from her back when the Ranger shifted and sat up on the edge of the bed next to her. They washed and dressed quickly and left the room shortly afterwards. The hall was busy with servants, armed men and a few children, everybody packing, carrying and arranging what had to be done. In between the hustle, Éowyn stopped a maiden and made her bring some simple breakfast, then she sat down with the Ranger at a table close to the wall of the hall. They ate in comfortable silence, not taking much time due to all the things that had to be done before the departure. At some point, Éowyn saw her uncle pass the hall and he greeted her absent-mindedly, hurrying towards the main courtyard. The atmosphere of impending threat was palpable, the tension was visible in every Rohirrim around them. 

Éowyn finished eating quickly and then joined the busy activity in the city. She didn't have much to pack for herself, only a few clothes, but there was one thing she was going to take with her. She would need it. So Éowyn opened the chest in the corner of her chambers and pulled out a sword in a leathern sheath. It was beautifully crafted, obviously a masterpiece of metalwork. It had been a gift from her father to her mother, a long time ago, before her birth even. 

“Do you know how to use it, my Lady?” she heard Elgarain's voice close by and had the sword wielded before the last word had been spoken. Her blow was met by the Dúnedain's blade and parried effortlessly, but Éowyn had expected no less. Without such skill, Elgarain would never have survived that long on her own.

“I see you do know something of the blade.” the Dúnedain said with a smirk on her lips. “Will you do me the honour of a match, my Lady?”

“Of course.” Éowyn replied, more than happy to use some of her restless energy. Immediately, she was in motion again, going through the moves that had become her second nature in the many hours she had trained in private over the years. Her every attack was parried immediately and she did not find the smallest weakness in Elgarain's defence, but she had not expected to best somebody who had more than a hundred years of experience and practise with the sword.

Elgarain parried another blow, then she jumped back and grinned. “You are very good, indeed, my Lady.”

“You are better.” Éowyn admitted with a smile but kept her fighting stance and nodded in acknowledgement of the compliment.

“I have the advantage of long experience.” Elgarain began to circle her with slow, deliberate steps and Éowyn's attention followed her every movement. It felt good to slip into this clear state of mind that only came to her in a fight, to have the opportunity to take the edge off her troubled emotions. 

“You could teach me, Ranger.” Éowyn remarked and gave her a smirk. It was as if in this moment, here with Elgarain, she was liberated of all the burdens that lay on her shoulders every second of her waking time. She felt the responsibility that always weighted her down slip away into nothingness, felt herself smile despite the gravity of Rohan's situation. She felt her inner strength return with every second that passed.

“I would be honoured, my Lady.” Elgarain replied with a bow and demonstratively relaxed her stance. “I do not doubt that you will be a very quick learner.”

“Have you ever had a student?” The Rohirrim enquired while she lowered her sword.

“Not in a long time.” The Ranger replied, and Éowyn meant to hear a wistful note in her voice.

“Why are you travelling alone, Elgarain?” she asked before she had even thought about the question. “I thought the Rangers of the North travelled in groups.”

“We did.” the Dúnedain replied with a sad smile while she sheathed her sword. “But there are not many of us left. We have long since stopped working in groups. The northern kingdom was destroyed a long time ago.” 

Éowyn understood that she had touched a sensible topic, and it was neither the time nor the place to discuss such matters. The sounds outside of the room made it obvious that departure was imminent; the shouts of the men, the horses' impatient neighing, the hustle and bustle of many feet moving. 

“Let us get outside, my Lady.” Elgarain said quietly. She waited at the door while Éowyn hid the sword in her belongings and lifted them up on her arms. They crossed the hall, nearly empty now, and entered the courtyard which was the exact opposite, filled with the people of Edoras who were carrying what they needed, readying their horses, women ushering the children together in groups. Only minutes later, the King gave the sign to move out and the trail of people, horses and handcarts began the long march to Helm's Deep. 

Some time into the journey, Éowyn led her horse next to Elgarain and Master Aragorn who were engaged in a light conversation. Suddenly, there was a surprised scream and then Arod shot past them with the Master Dwarf flailing his arms in an unsuccessful attempt to keep from falling off the horse. There was a moment of stunned silence while he tried get up from the ground, declaring it had all been on purpose. 

Éowyn hurried forwards to help him up, unable to hold back her laughter, and out of the corner of the eye she saw Aragorn come towards them while Elgarain was busy capturing Arod. She approached the stallion with slow, deliberate movements and was talking to him in words too quiet to be heard over the distance, and Éowyn watched fascinated how the horse calmed down under her gentle ministrations and let her take hold of the reins. She came back towards them with the stallion following her lead without any sign of resistance. 

“You are a turning into a Rohirrim, my friend.” Master Aragorn remarked with a teasing smile on his lips when she reached them.

Éowyn could not help laughing. “Nobody will mistake her for a Rohirrim, Master Aragorn.”

“Do you care to explain why, my Lady?” Elgarain asked with a raised eyebrow, a smirk tugging on her lips.

“Your hair.” Éowyn explained and let her hand travel through the long brown strands without thinking about it. “I have never seen a Rohirrim with hair this dark.” 

There was a moment of silence when her gaze caught the Ranger's, and Éowyn saw the pleased surprise in her eyes and the little smile on her lips before Elgarain averted her gaze to look at the Dwarf.

“Master Gimli.” She said with an expression that seemed to be serious while she was obviously hiding a grin, and she held out her hand to offer the Dwarf the reins.

“Oh no.” The dwarf said with his typical growl and gave Arod a suspicious gaze. “Give him to the Elf. Dwarfs are not made for riding.”

The Dúnedain nodded and there was mirth in her eyes. “As you wish.”

She was just about to leave and make her way over to where Master Legolas was walking when an alarmed shout echoed over the planes.

“The wolves of Isengard are attacking! To arms!” 

A shiver of anxiety ran down Éowyn's spine and she saw Elgarain tense into a defensive posture next to her. Everybody knew what it meant to be attacked here in the open, with so many people who did not know how to fight, or who were either to young or to old to wield a sword in their defence. They were an easy target out here, meaning that those who were able to fight had to keep the enemy from getting near the trail.

“My Lady, stay with your people!” Elgarain shouted and mounted Arod in one swift motion. “Lead them to the keep! We will keep the creatures away!”

Éowyn was about to contradict when her uncle reached her side and told her exactly the same, then everything happened to fast to do anything but perform her duty. She was the leader of her people now, responsible for their safety, and she could not afford any distractions. She could not help a glance to Elgarain's retreating form, though, riding fiercely next to her uncle and Master Aragorn, before the riders vanished behind a hilltop. Éowyn resolutely banned all distracting thoughts from her mind and concentrated on her task. She had to get her people into the safe walls of the keep before the wolves reached them. 

It was a huge relief to see the massive gates rise in front of them and she ushered the people inside. The leader of the keep approached her and informed her that a lot of fugitives of other villages had already settled within the protective walls. She quickly advised with him where to settle the new arrivals, then they organised the resident soldiers to lead the people within the keep. It was some hours later that the sentry announced the arrival of the men who had fought the wolves of Isengard. Éowyn had been in the keep when she heard the news and hurried to the upper courtyard when her uncle and his men rode in. Her gaze scanned the group, but she could make out neither Elgarain's form, nor Master Aragorn's. 

“My Lady.” she heard a deep voice say and noticed that the Dwarf had approached her.

“Master Dwarf!” Éowyn felt cold dread settle in her stomach. “Where are the Rangers?”

There was an uncharacteristic expression of grief on the Dwarf's face and he removed his helmet to look at her. His eyes told her everything before he could even say a word. 

“No!” She gasped and felt dread rush through her, its icy fingers reaching every part of her body, making her numb with shock. She felt as if she was crushed by the pain and she had to fight to remain upright, aware of all the eyes watching her. She could not let her despair show, she was a leader of her people and had to set an example.

“They fell, my Lady,” the voice of the Dwarf interrupted her thoughts and made her look up from the ground. 

Éowyn nodded in acknowledgement, but she was not really aware of it. Elgarain could not be gone. Not now, not when she needed her most. The Ranger had promised to remain by her side, how could she just be gone, then? 

Éowyn felt tears prickle in her eyes and bit her lip hard. She could not allow her feelings to show. She had to fulfil her duty to her people. They were at the brink of war, Helm's Deep was overcrowded with fugitives and she had to organise the accommodation and the alimentation of her people. Now was not the time to despair. 

She straightened her posture, took a deep breath and let the familiar numbness take over. She had to be strong, just as she had always been.


	4. Chapter 4

[ ](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/nanuk_dain/16335757/92742/92742_original.jpg)

 

The impact forced all air out of her lungs. 

Elgarain struggled to get back to the surface and inhaled deeply once she felt cold air on her face. One look showed her a black clad form not far away, drifting unmoving in the currents of the river, head under water. With a few strong pulls, she reached Aragorn and turned him around so that his face was in the air. She wrapped her arm around his unconscious form, her hand clawing his tunic, and she held on with all the strength she could muster while she tried to keep them afloat. She would neither allow them to drown nor to be separated. They would reach the shore together, she would not fail Aragorn like she had failed his father. 

The currents were strong and she was pulled down several times. She breathed in water and coughed, never easing her grip on the unconscious man. Elgarain tried to swim for the shore, but the currents kept them in the middle of the stream and she felt exhaustion slowly numbing her movements. Aragorn had still not woken, his body limp in her grip, and she cursed under her breath.

They needed to get out of the water as quickly as possible. She had no idea how long they had been in the river, she had lost her sense of time. Neither did she know how far they had been dragged along when the pull of the water finally eased and she managed to swim towards the shore. The water became shallower with every stroke she made and then she felt the ground underneath her feet. A few minutes later, she had managed to drag Aragorn onto the stony beach, as far out of the water as she could. 

Elgarain fell down besides him, panting heavily, and took a moment to regain her breath before she looked around to assess their situation. They were on a small beach and the shore rose gently to both sides of the stream, so it would be rather easy to climb out. There was a horse in some distance and she noticed that it seemed to approach them slowly. Maybe the animal could be of help. But first, she needed Aragorn to regain consciousness. Elgarain turned to him and quickly checked him for injuries. He was breathing steadily, but there was a nasty gash on his forehead and one high on his arm, both bleeding despite the time they had spent in the water. She took her dagger and cut a piece out of her tunic and pressed the cloth to the head wound.

“Come on, Aragorn, wake up!” she said loudly and hit his cheeks in the attempt to pull him out of his unconsciousness. “We have to get to Helm's Deep.”

It took a moment, then he groaned in pain and turned on his side. Elgarain took hold of his shoulders and helped him to sit up. “What happened?”

“We were dragged off the cliff by a wolf of Isengard and fell into the river.” she said while pressing the cloth against his forehead to stop the bleeding. There wasn't much she could do for the shoulder. “You obviously hit your head in the course.”

“Where are we?” he asked and took hold of the cloth. She released it and sat back. 

“Not too far from the right path, I hope. We will have to leave the riverbed before we can be certain, though.”

“Did you get hurt?” he asked and rose with her help, brows furrowed in pain. 

“No, I was lucky.” she looked around and noticed the horse had come within a few metres, watching them with attentive but calm eyes. “Do you see the horse? I will try to approach it, maybe it will let us ride.”

She took a closer look. The animal appeared to be familiar to her and when she was but a step away, she recognised the horse. “Brego! What are you doing here?”

Aragorn looked up and she heard him chuckle. “This is indeed a surprising coincidence. I asked the Lady to set him free after his master's burial.”

Elgarain smiled and patted the stallion's neck. “I will consider it chance that he found us.”

“We should not question it. It is such a fortunate coincidence, and we need it dearly.” Aragorn remarked and joined her in caressing the brown pelt of the horse.

“Aye, so it is.” Elgarain agreed and mounted the stallion without meeting any resistance from the animal. “I will ride. Sit behind me and rest.”

“Aye, my friend, I will.” he replied, accepting her lead, and mounted behind her, wrapping his arms loosely around her waist. The old trust was still there, Elgarain realised and smiled. It made her happy to see that the little boy had grown into a honourable, strong man, and it made her feel good that he trusted her just as he had done as a child; that the long time of absence had not reduced what the first years of his life had established. 

They left the riverbed and found themselves a lot further south than they had expected. It was going to be a long ride to Helm's Deep, Elgarain thought with a frown and made Brego fall into a faster pace. They rode hard for several hours and made good progress, until they passed a hilltop and Elgarain stopped Brego suddenly and made him retreat behind the rock they had just passed.

“Have you seen?” she asked and could not help the worry that coloured her voice.

“Aye, I have.” Aragorn replied and his voice displayed equal concern. Elgarain made Brego step forwards, slowly and carefully, until they had a clear view past the rock and over the plain beneath them. There was a massive army of all evil of Mordor passing the plain, Orcs, Uruk_Hai, Trolls. Their steps made the ground tremble with the combined force of thousands of feet and Elgarain felt her throat go dry at the sight. The creatures were headed for Helm's Deep, there was no doubt about that.

“These are at least ten thousand creatures.” Aragorn stated, voice very quiet.

“We have to get to Helm's Deep and warn them.” Elgarain mumbled, still shaken at the raw mass of enemies. She had seen many battles in her time as a Ranger, but never an army this huge. This battle would be of epic dimension, and she was not certain Rohan could win. There were too few men in the keep who could fight compared to the numbers of enemy ranks. Without a miracle, the Rohirrim were bound to lose this battle, and she had no illusions about what would happen to the people. 

There would be no Rohirrim left when this army was done. No man, no woman, no child.

Without another word, Elgarain made Brego head down the backside of the hill so they could pass the army without being noticed. She set a fast pace; the earlier they reached the keep, the more time the Rohirrim had to prepare for battle. They would need every moment they could get. She just hoped the people had arrived at Helm's Deep without further problems, hoped that the other men had been able to fight off the wolves of Isengard, that the Lady was safe within the strong walls of the fortress. She could not bear the thought of having left Lady Éowyn unprotected and open for attack, even though she knew the Lady could fight if she had to. Their little match had proven her to be a skilled swordsman, she would be able to defend herself. Still, Elgarain would have preferred to be at her side.

“There is Helm's Deep.” Elgarain said quietly after some further hours of riding and looked at the fortress huddled against the side of the mountain.

“We will have little time to prepare for war.” Aragorn's calm voice stated behind her.

“You know as well as I do that they need any help they can get.” she remarked with a worried frown. “They cannot win this battle on their own.”

“I know.” 

There was no encouragement that would not be a lie, so Elgarain remained silent and directed Brego towards the gate of the fortress. It took them a while to arrive in the courtyard, riding through the narrow streets that were filled with far too many people. They stopped once they had reached the upper courtyard and dismounted. As if he had known about their arrival, the Dwarf hurried towards them and greeted each of them with a surprisingly firm embrace.

“We have to talk to the King.” Aragorn said urgently and started walking up the stairs towards the Hornburg. 

“He is in the hall, my friend.” The Dwarf shouted after them. Aragorn nodded in acknowledgement but did not stop, neither to answer nor to see if Elgarain followed him. Time was running out, they needed to inform Théoden King as quickly as possible. War was coming towards them fast. 

Elgarain followed right behind Aragorn, up the stairs and past the gate. She only stopped when she saw Éowyn stand in the arcade, bent over to talk to a woman and her child. Elgarain felt a wave of relief and affection and _something_ wash over her at the sight of the young Lady, well and unharmed. As if she had felt her gaze, Éowyn raised her head and turned towards her. Elgarain could tell the exact moment the Rohirrim recognised her, since she stopped dead in her tracks, frozen to the spot, her eyes wide open and her mouth agape in surprise. Then an array of emotions flickered over her face, from disbelief and confusion over pain to relief.

The Lady seemed to overcome her surprise fast and walked towards her, steps quick and brisk as if she fought for control. Elgarain remained standing where she was, waiting for her to reach her. Lady Éowyn's eyes were fixed on hers with a resolute expression Elgarain had not seen before. The Lady did not stop when she reached Elgarain, she just took hold of her arm without saying a word and pulled her along. Elgarain was too surprised to do anything but follow her and fell into step when the Rohirrim dragged her through the entrance of the keep and to the left into a narrow side corridor. 

“What...?” Before she could finish her question, Éowyn stopped and turned, then Elgarain felt her hands on her shoulders and she was pinned against the wall of the corridor. She was still stunned by the sudden, unexpectedly aggressive demeanour of the Rohirrim when she felt hands in her hair, pulling her down. Then Éowyn's lips were on hers, firm and demanding, her whole body pressing Elgarain into the wall. The Ranger took a surprised breath and tensed for a second, then she melted into the touch of the hands that had wandered to her neck. Elgarain tilted her head for a better angle, opened her mouth and met the intruding tongue with her own. Her hands settled on Éowyn's slender waist, wandered over her back and pulled her close. Suddenly, it was not that important anymore to get to the hall and the King immediately. Aragorn would fulfil this task just as well.

Elgarain heard a muffled moan and it took her a moment to realise it had come from herself. Éowyn cupped her jaw, and tilted her head to meet every single one of Elgarain's movements, her body plastered firmly alongside the Ranger's from head to toe. Elgarain felt the gentle swell of her breast even through the multiple layers of clothes, felt the hips that pushed against her own, the intoxicating scent of her skin. Her senses focussed on the woman in her arms, the feeling of her lips on her own, of her hands on her skin. It was a while before Éowyn slowly pulled back and hid her face in the crook of Elgarain's neck. 

“Do not dare to ever do that to me again!” Éowyn growled, but her voice sounded more desperate than angry, the sharp edge lost to the quiver she apparently could not entirely control. Elgarain closed her arms tighter around the slender form and buried her face in the soft blond hair. 

“I am sorry I worried you.” Elgarain mumbled, taking in the scent that was uniquely Éowyn. It was addictive, and she wondered how she should ever be able to let go of the Lady again. 

“Worried?” She heard Éowyn give a harsh laugh that held no joy, only bitterness. “I was told you were dead!” 

Elgarain contained a flinch at the desperate note in her voice and kissed the skin of Éowyn's neck. “Aragorn and I fell off a cliff. The assumption was likely to be true.”

“Do not say such a thing.” The arms around her tightened their hold and she felt Éowyn's nose touch the skin of her neck. “You are back, and you are alive.”

These words made Elgarain remember the army of Mordor that they had seen and she wondered how long all of those inside theses walls were still going to be alive. She pulled back and kept hold of Éowyn's face to make her look into her eyes. “We bring ill news, my Lady. The enemy approaches with an army of some ten thousand creatures. They will be here by nightfall.”

“Ten thousand?” The Lady asked with shocked expression. She knew that there were little chances that the Rohirrim could win against such an overwhelming enemy.

“Aragorn will be telling the King about it right this moment. We have to get to the hall.”

“Aye, we do.” Éowyn took a step back and straightened, her hands passing over her dress as if trying to smooth out any creases. It was a futile gesture. Elgarain was watching her when the Lady looked up and caught her gaze, her face betraying nothing while her eye bespoke insecurity and maybe even fear. “Follow me.”

Before Elgarain had the time to react, Éowyn had turned and was headed for the hall. There was nothing Elgarain could do but follow. Now was not the time to talk about what had just happened. 

*** 

What had she done? By the Gods, what had she done? 

For a moment, those seemed to be the only words in Éowyn's mind while she hurried through the corridors of the Hornburg, leading the way to the great hall with the ease of somebody who knew the fortress since childhood. Her feet carried her without her mind needing to to pay any attention to the way, and that gave her thoughts the time to run wild. She had not been thinking when she had... _approached_ Elgarain. It was the only explanation for daring such a bold move. In the name of the Gods, she had _kissed_ her! There was no way to misunderstand that gesture.

When they had arrived in the great hall and Elgarain strode past her to join Master Aragorn in reporting to the King, Éowyn could not keep her gaze from following her. It was then that she admitted to herself that she did not want there to be any chance that her actions might have been misunderstood. She _wanted_ to be close to the beautiful, mysterious Ranger of the North with her silent strength and her unfaltering loyalty, her warm affection and her mesmerising smile. Éowyn craved to be close to her in every sense of the word, in spirit and in body. It was only then that she remembered, no, _realised_ , that Elgarain had not pushed her away. That in fact, she had returned the kiss. Éowyn even meant to remember feeling Elgarain's hands on her hips, as if the warmth of her touch was still lingering. Maybe all hope was not lost yet. 

Right now, though, was not the time of love but the time of war. The urgent words exchanged between Master Aragorn, Elgarain and her uncle made Éowyn's focus return to the matters at hand, to the things that were important at the moment. War was upon Rohan, and Helm's Deep would be the place of the battle that would decided about her country's further existence. It was not the time to deal with her feelings, so she pushed them back into the corner of her heart where she always kept the important things she had no influence on, at least for the time being, and firmly closed the door on it.

Within minutes of their arrival in the great hall, Master Aragorn walked off to the armoury, Elgarain by his side. Éowyn followed them to the entrance of the keep, catching Elgarain throwing her a quick glance and a little, reassuring smile, before she disappeared in the crowd. Éowyn stared after the retreating figure of the Ranger, _her_ Ranger, and she could not help taking in the masses of scared people all around her, in the courtyard, in the passageways, on the walls. There was so much left to do before nightfall, so much to organise, so much to prepare. 

Eowyn rolled up the sleeves of her dress. It was time for her to fulfil her duty as the Shieldmaiden of Rohan.

*** 

There were so many people in the fortress, way more than there was space for. It was crowded beyond measure, yet Éowyn did not stop fighting her way through the masses of scared men, women and children. She was powered by something between anger and desperation, a potent mixture that had her high-strung with energy. She needed to find Elgarain, she _had_ to find her. 

It was dark, the night had fallen, and the lack of light made it more difficult to identify the people who filled the courtyard. Relief washed over Éowyn when she finally spotted the familiar brown hair in the crowd. It was braided back in a long plaid that fell down to the Ranger's waist, yet the dark colour was a distinct mark within the bright blond of the Rohirrim people. Éowyn did not dare to lower her gaze while she moved through the crowd, afraid that the Ranger would disappear within the chaos before she could reach her. 

When she passed the last soldiers who stood between her and Elgarain, she saw that the Ranger was in the company of Master Aragorn, the Elf and the Dwarf. She had shed her cloak and was wearing a chain mail under her waistcoat, her sword and dagger were buckled to her side and her bow and quiver strung over her back. She looked more like a warrior than ever before, and it was in this very moment that Éowyn realised that there was the very real possibility that Elgarain did not survive the night. That none of them would. It made her insides clench with a feeling she could not afford to define right now, and she had to swallow it back in order to find her voice.

“Elgarain.” The Ranger and her companions turned at the sound of Éowyn's voice.

“My Lady.” Elgarain seemed surprised as well as worried to see her here in the outer ring of the keep, close to the front line of the defence. She said something to Master Aragorn before she came over.

Éowyn quivered with anger, her voice pressed, and she could not hold back the words as soon as Elgarain was close enough to understand her without Éowyn having to raise her voice. “I am to be sent in the caves with the women and children.” 

“It is a wise decision.” The Ranger replied, her voice calm. “You know the caves. If it comes down to it, you are the most suitable person to lead the women and children to the mountains and make sure they stay alive.”

“But I can fight!” Courage born of desperation and fear washed over Éowyn, made her tense and angry. It felt like betrayal that Elgarain supported her uncle's decision to lock her away in the caves. 

“There is a right time for everything, my Lady.” Elgarain said with a serious expression on her face. “Now is not the time for you to fight as a soldier but as the Lady of Rohan.”

“To stay behind, to find food and bedding when the men return! What renown is there in that?” Éowyn squared her shoulders and took a deep breath before she went on, “I would rather stay by your side and fight!”

For a dreadful moment Elgarain was silent, then she reached out and closed her hand around Éowyn's upper arm, her eyes intent when she caught the Rohirrim's gaze.

“Listen to me, Éowyn.” Something inside the Rohirrim clenched at the use of her given name. It was the very first time she had heard Elgarain say it, and it made her skin prickle. The Ranger leaned closer, almost imperceptibly so, and let go of her arm to touch her hand to Éowyn's cheek. “I have been in enough battles to know that the front row is not always the most important place to be. Right now you are the last line of defence between the creatures and the women and children of your people. You are more important in the caves than out here, my Lady.”

Éowyn clenched her teeth and made to defend her demand. “Elgarain...”

“I would rather be close to you, but neither is it for the best nor is it my place to command. I am of no use to Rohan in the caves, but out here, every arrow and every blade will make a difference for our defences. Should they fail nevertheless, there has to be a leader for your people.” Éowyn stared into Elgarain's eyes while she listened to those words that she hated with passion, but deep down inside of her, she knew that Elgarain was right. The Ranger passed her fingertips over Éowyn's cheek in an almost fleeting gesture, the touch warm and gentle. “It is your place in this battle, Éowyn.”

Éowyn held her gaze for a moment longer, then her lips pulled into a tight line of determination and she nodded. She knew the Rohirrim needed the Ranger's bow and sword as well as her experience and her skill. She would have preferred to have Elgarain with her, but she understood that while the Ranger's talents would not be of much help down in the caves, they could be crucial in defending the keep.

“I understand.” Eowyn said quietly, forcing her voice to sound even. 

Elgarain gave her a little smile full of warmth and affection, a silent promise, and it made Éowyn feel better, even if only a bit. “I will see you later, my Lady.”

“I take your word for that.” Éowyn replied quietly and bit her lip in a moment of deep worry.

Elgarain nodded. “You have it.”

With one last glance at Elgarain's warm smile, Éowyn turned and left to head for the caves. She had a duty to fulfil, even if it was not what she wanted.

*** 

Aragorn watched. 

He always watched, it was one of the traits he had adapted while being raised by the Elves in Rivendell. Watching was not only a good way to learn, it was also a good way to _understand_. Right now, he was watching his old friend Elgarain while still listening to the conversation of Gimli and Legolas with half an ear. 

The body language of the Lady of Rohan and his fellow Ranger told him what he could not learn from their words since he could not hear them. They were definitely close, but he had already known that ever since he had seen them in the Golden Hall of Rohan's capital when he had first arrived with Gandalf. 

When the Lady and Elgarain parted company, Aragorn's gaze followed the tense but resolute set of the set of the Lady's shoulders as she returned to the keep with firm steps. He noticed that he was not the only one whose gaze was focussed on the Rohirrim's retreating form. Elgarain was watching her until she disappeared in the crowd, then she made to return to them. Lines of worry and concern showed on her face, yet there was a also something close to relief. Aragorn had an inkling where that feeling came from.

Elgarain joined him at the parapet of the outer wall, her posture straight. Aragorn looked at her before he turned his gaze at the light in the distance. It was caused by the torches of the approaching army of Mordor. "It is almost time. It has been long since we stood together in battle."

"Aye, it has been long indeed. But this is a battle of dimensions I have never faced."

"Neither have I." Aragorn agreed, still staring into the distance. "I do not think Middle Earth has seen such a battle before." 

Elgarain nodded slowly. “We can only hope Gandalf will be successful in finding Éomer and his eored.”

“He will be.” Aragorn replied with utter certainty. “You know him as well as I do. He is not one to disappoint, nor does he give false hope.”

“You are right, my friend. Gandalf has always kept his word." She turned towards him and chuckled. "You have become wise in the past decades.”

Aragorn laughed quietly. “It is not wisdom I have gained, it is faith in my friends.”

“You are lucky with your friends, Aragorn.” Her gaze passed Gimli and Legolas who were in the courtyard now, obviously bickering about nothing of importance. It had become a habit of theirs, Aragorn had noticed. 

“I know. It is an honour to know them.” He replied honestly. “As it is my honour to fight by your side again, my mentor.” 

Elgarain smirked. "It has been a long time since you were my student, Aragorn. You have become my equal ages ago."

Aragorn bowed his head in acknowledgement of her words. "Yet you have been my first teacher, and thus have laid the foundation for all my skill."

Now it was her who bowed. "You have become a fine man, my friend. You fight a battle that is not yours."

"So do you." Aragorn remarked.

"Nay, my friend." She shook her head. "It is my battle. There are people in this keep that I have to protect.”

He followed her quick gaze and saw the Lady of Rohan who was about to usher the last of the women and children to the caves. Her movements were fast and efficient, but also calm and steady. She was an image of strength and control, a true leader of her people. He turned his gaze to look at the face which he remembered from his childhood, Elgarain's gentle yet strong features that he connected with some fond memories of his early years when his father had still been alive. Now, while she was looking at the Lady, her eyes were warm and her smile was gentle, and Aragorn understood that she was going to fight to keep the Lady safe. “What binds you to the Lady, my friend?”

Elgarain turned towards him and held his gaze for a long moment before she answered. She did not seem surprised that he had asked such a question. “My heart.”

Aragorn nodded slowly and allowed his smile to show. He had thought so before, he had seen the connection between the Lady and his friend from the very first moment on. It sang in the air when they were in the same room, it was obvious in every gesture and every word they exchanged. He wondered how many others had noticed. “So you will be wherever you are needed to keep her safe.” 

“Aye.” Elgarain nodded. “If that means that I am to fight for Rohan, then I will. Never mind if it is out here on the walls or in the caves.”

Aragorn looked at her, taking in her determined face. “With you and the Lady in the caves, the women and children have a chance at survival if all defences should fail.” 

“Let us hope they hold.” Elgarain's worried gaze passed over the Men assembled in the courtyard, a lot of them men to old to fight or boys to young for a sword. She was quiet for a long time, and Aragorn did nothing to fill the silence. 

“I promised her to survive.” There was no need to ask who she was talking about. “She will be waiting.”

Aragorn turned towards her and gave a little smile. “Then you have every reason to live, my friend.”

“Aye, that I do.” Elgarain looked at him and returned his smile. When her gaze fell into the courtyard again, her smile vanished. "They all do, but I am not sure that it will be enough."

Aragorn followed her gaze to two boys, not older than ten winters, who cowered by a fire pit, wearing armour and helmets that were far too big for their slender bodies, holding their swords as if they were snakes about to bit them. Next to him, Aragorn heard Elgarain sigh deeply. “We need hope in this keep more than anything else at the moment.”

Aragorn nodded gravely and let his eyes trail over the masses of desperate and scared people in the courtyard. “Aye, that we do.”

It was then that the sound of a horn echoed through the valley that Aragorn had no trouble recognising as the horns of Lothlórien. 

He smirked. Hope was coming.

*** 

Elgarain had lost count of the number of times she had stood like this, geared up and ready for battle, her senses hypersensitive, her body tense with alert, her mind blank with concentration. It had been part of her life for as long as she could think back, yet it had never lost its edge, had never turned dull, had never left her untouched. 

This time was different, though. This time there was somebody she cared about, somebody she desperately needed to keep safe. Somebody who waited for her to come back, somebody she had promised to survive.

When the first drops of rain hit the armours of the warriors around her, Elgarain knew she would do anything it took to keep her Lady safe and to fulfil her promise.


	5. Chapter 5

[ ](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/nanuk_dain/16335757/92742/92742_original.jpg)

Éowyn had never given any thought to what twenty thousand feet would sound like. Now she knew.

They shook the ground, they made the water in the rock basins ripple, they echoed like thunder in the hollow of the caves. It was a demonstration of the raw power that the men in the fortress above ground stood up against. It made the children whimper in fear and the women bite their lips in bone deep worry while they cradled the little ones closer, trying to convey a sense of security they didn't feel.

The atmosphere in the caves was laden with fear and tension, with pain and worry. There was a hushed, unnatural silence in the wide rock halls, only interrupted by the occasional child's cry or a barely suppressed sob that was quickly silenced again. It made Éowyn's skin crawl.

Then the noises started. The feet, the shouts that were muted to a low, menacing rumble by the thick earth surrounding them. There were heavy thumps, like stones hitting the ground, several in a row, and down here in the heart of the mountain, they could do nothing else but wait for the final outcome. Eowyn hated it with passion, it made her feel helpless and desperate. She grabbed the hilt of her mother's sword that she had buckled to her belt, the leather wrapped steel a reassuring presence in her hand.

Some time later, there was another shudder, this one a lot stronger. It was accompanied by a loud thunder that echoed repeatedly in the caves, and Éowyn instinctively knew something bad must have happened. She gritted her teeth and had to force herself to remain calm and keep from heading back to the keep to see what it was. Her anxiety rose with every minute that passed, yet she could not do anything to ease it. She had to set an example for her people. She knew that the hundreds of women down here with her felt the same restless energy, so if she allowed it to take over, the discipline that kept things in order would be broken. She could not let that happen.

So Éowyn walked along the trail of women and little children that were huddled close to their mothers and grandmothers, talking with them and trying to be reassuring without lying. She wanted to tell them that their husbands, fathers and brothers would be all right, but she could not. There was no way to tell who, if any, were to live through the night. She pointedly refused to think about Elgarain and her uncle who were out there in combat along with the men of the families she was trying to keep calm. 

The hours dragged along slowly, as if they did not want to pass, and Éowyn lost count of time. She could not tell how long they had been down in the half-dark of the caves when suddenly, Gamling appeared at the entrance of the cave, his face grave even under the filth that was covering his features. He hurried past the women and children and met Éowyn halfway. “My Lady, you have to make for the mountain pass!”

Éowyn felt icy fingers run down her spine, leaving unpleasant goosebumps in their wake. “Are they coming?”

Gamling did not reply, instead he just gave a grim nod that said more than any words could have. The defences were broken. For a fleeting moment, overwhelming in its intensity, Éowyn feared that Elgarain had fallen. It blinded her, made her numb, and she forced the thought back with all her might. There were other things that ought to be her main concern now, things that she actually had influence on. 

“Hurry, my Lady. We will seal the entrance to give you as much time as possible, but you need to make haste.” Gamling bowed quickly, then he headed back to the keep.

Éowyn nodded and turned to the people who were her responsibility. It was up to her to make sure they survived whatever came next. She would not leave them for the Uruk-Hai.

"We have to make to the mountains! Take only food with you, leave everything else." Éowyn shouted through the wide expanse of the chain of caves, knowing her words would carry far. "Carry the little children, we have to move quickly!" 

The women got up and gathered the provisions, then they quickly moved further into the darkness. Éowyn lifted a little girl on her arms and hooked a basket with bread on her back. It was time to go.

*** 

The ride back to the Hornburg was accompanied by loud cheering and relieved laughter from everybody who had fought the evil of Mordor. The way led them through the fortress, along the masses of dead, Men, Elves and Uruk-Hai alike, that piled inside and outside the walls. Yet the euphoria would not be dampened, not in this moment of victory. Elgarain rode behind Éomer in the line of victorious warriors, the smile on her face an expression of profound relief. The whole night, she had not dared to imagine this outcome, had not dared to hope for the timely arrival of Éomer and his eored. The odds for Rohan had been too bad when the night had progressed. Now she felt the burden lifted from her shoulders and it lightened her spirits to the point of relieved exhaustion. 

When they had arrived in the upper courtyard and Elgarain climbed the steps to the keep, she saw the Lady's straight figure among the women and children who had just returned from the caves. The moment she spotted Elgarain, Lady Éowyn's whole posture changed and she hurried over to where Elgarain had just reached the last step. The Rohirrim stopped right in front of her, her face vivid with emotion, her hands passing over Elgarain's cheeks, never mind that they were covered in filth, blood and sweat. The touch seemed to reassure her that the Ranger was real, that she was still alive, and at the same time, Elgarain felt as if it eased the exhaustion and wariness that followed a long night of fighting without hope for victory. The Lady did not say anything, she just smiled with almost painful relief before she wrapped her arms around Elgarain's neck and pulled her close. Elgarain did not hesitate to bury her nose in the long blond strands and sighed in pleasure as well as relief. It felt incredibly good to hold Éowyn in her arms again, to know her safe and alive and as well as possible given the circumstances. 

"You kept your promise." Éowyn's voice was strangely rough and so quiet that Elgarain only heard the words because they were spoken right next to her ear.

“I gave you my word, my Lady.” Elgarain murmured into her hair, smiling with honest relief.

“Éowyn.” was the slightly muffled reply. “Please, Elgarain, I would love to hear you use my name.”

Elgarain's smile widened and she tightened her embrace, then she turned her face until her mouth was right next to the Lady's right ear. “Éowyn.”

The faint shudder was more reward than any words could have ever been. 

Éowyn only pulled back after their embrace had already lasted longer than appropriate. Then she let her gaze wander up and down Elgarain's body, checking her for any harm. It did not take her long to see the blood that had soaked the tunic on the Ranger's left arm. A worried frown appeared on her face and she gently passed her hands over the arm to find out how bad the wound was. “You are injured. You need to see the healers.”

“It is but a scratch, my Lady.” Elgarain replied honestly, not even bothering to look at her arm. She had experienced worse injuries and she knew she could take care of it herself. “Others need the healers' attention more than I do.”

The expression in the Lady's eyes told her that she did not agree, but in the face of the many gravely injured Men that were brought to the Great Hall, she did not argue. Elgarain was still standing, even walking and talking, and that alone qualified her as a survivor who was not in need of immediate attention. 

Elgarain watched how the Lady gave a curt nod before she changed the topic. "What happened? How were the creatures defeated?"

"Your bother came to our rescue at the very last moment. It seems that Gandalf found him and they must have ridden hard in order to reach Helm's Deep in time."

Éowyn gasped in surprised pleasure. "Éomer is here?" 

"Aye. He and his eored arrived at sunrise." Elgarain quickly scanned the riders in the courtyard before she pointed at the tall figure of the Third Marshall. "See, there he is."

***

“Éomer!” 

At the sound of his name, Éomer turned around and saw his sister within the masses of people that populated the courtyard. Her hair was tousled and her hands were bloody, the sleeves of her dress were carelessly rolled up and she had a sword belted to her side that he recognised as his mother's. She stood at the top of the stairs and looked at him with relief written plainly across her face. Éomer felt a huge smile spread over his lips and he quickly walk over to her. 

“Éowyn!” It was a great relief to see her alive after the terrible battle, after so much death and despair. Behind her, he noticed the tall form of the Ranger who still seemed to serve as his sister's protective shadow. He saw she had been injured, there was a gash on her left arm and her tunic was soaked with blood, yet she seemed otherwise unharmed apart from the cuts and bruises that all warriors sported.

When he reached his sister, Éomer pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her in a firm embrace. The last time he had seen her, he had been dragged out of his own home, thrown out and banned by the spineless worm Gríma. He had not known how she would fare, even if he had been reassured knowing the Ranger by her side. Now he was certain that his trust in Elgarain had not been misplaced. 

“Are you all right?” He heard his sister ask once he let go of her. 

He smiled and nodded, keeping a loose grip on her shoulders. “Aye, Éowyn, I am fine. Tired but unharmed. How are you?”

“I was in the caves.” she said curtly, as if she did not wish to talk about it. “I came to no harm.” 

Éomer looked her up and down nevertheless, and only continued speaking when he was sure she was indeed all right. “What about our people? I just arrived in the keep, but I saw many dead on the way.”

Éowyn's voice was grave and he could feel her sorrow in every word. “The women and children are fine, but we lost many men.”

Éomer nodded in acknowledgement, his lips a tight line and his brows furrowed. Her words only confirmed what he had seen on the ride to the keep. There had been so many dead that it had been impossible to tell where the ground was. Only now did it begin to dawn on him how extensive the dimensions of the battle had been and how closely they had come to complete destruction. 

A short time later, Éomer walked the battle grounds with all the Men still able to stand, killing every creature of Isengard that was still alive while searching for Elven and Human survivors. It was one of the tasks Éomer had always hated with passion, in his opinion it was worse than combat itself. It showed so plainly the loss of life, the cruelty and the violence of battle that he never noticed while he was fighting. Nevertheless, Éomer marched through the dead, sinking knee-deep into the mud that was red with blood, and did his duty. He turned around every Man and Elf he came across, checked them for any signs of life and felt his heart grow heavier with every one he could not help anymore. When he found the body of a boy too young for a sword, he closed his eyes, just for a moment, and fought against the pain that almost crushed his chest.

“I am so sorry we did not come earlier.” he murmured when he opened his eyes again, looking at the dead face, as if he was apologizing to the boy.

“You are at no fault, Master Éomer.” A hand touched his shoulder and squeezed reassuringly. It was the Ranger who stood behind him, her voice serious. “You had no way of knowing what was happening, and I do not doubt for a moment that you hurried all the way to Helm's Deep.”

“We did.” Éomer sighed deeply, his eyes still focussed on the face of the young boy in front of him. His long hair was caked with blood, the blond colour almost drowned by muddy red. “Yet for many of my people, we came too late.”

“You came in time to tip the scale in our favour at a point where defeat seemed certain.” When he turned to look at her, her face was earnest, her gaze steady. “Always remember that, my friend.”

Éomer held her gaze for a long time, then he nodded slowly. He knew she was right, but it did not ease the guilt in his chest the least. He knew nothing ever would. 

Knowing his duty was not done yet, Éomer got up and continued the painful task. Next to him, the Ranger did the same, her face as grim as his. When they returned to the keep hours later, Éomer felt exhausted, more from the emotional strain of finding so many of his people dead than from the actual physical effort. He accepted the soup he was brought by a young maiden and settled on a bench in the Great Hall. Elgarain sat opposite of him, quietly eating her own soup, not saying a word. There was nothing to say, and they both knew it. There was an unpleasantly hushed atmosphere in the whole fortress, as if nobody dared to speak a loud word, and it weighed on Éomer's spirit like lead.

His mood lightened only when he saw his sister walk through the hall, her steps firm and resolute, her face determined. She was busy organising food and bedding along with space for the wounded while gathering all people with healing skills. He knew he could count himself lucky that he had not lost his family in this battle, like so many others had. His uncle was alive, his sister was alive. He should not ask for more. 

Éomer's gaze fell on Elgarain. Although he had not been there to witness it, he knew she had protected his sister ever since he had been banned. There were bruises on her knuckles, little cuts on her hands that held the bowl and the spoon, a gash high on her left cheek and a smaller one on her forehead. Dried blood caked the left upper arm of her tunic, right under the end of the chain mail, a bandage visible through the cut in the fabric. 

“Thank you.” Éomer said quietly. The Ranger stopped eating and looked up, a question in her eyes, until she followed his quick glance at Éowyn. “For keeping her safe.”

Elgarain straightened and held Éomer's sincere gaze. “Always.”

He nodded in acknowledgement as much as in thanks, not doubting for a moment that she meant what she had said. Somehow he was certain she would keep protecting Éowyn even if nobody asked for it. 

“Will you join us on tomorrow's ride to Isengard?” Éomer asked after a moment, changing the topic on purpose. 

“Nay, my friend.” It was only a very quick glance, but Éomer still caught the Ranger's eyes flicker to his sister who was just leaving the hall with quick steps. “I will stay with the people returning to Edoras and join your men in their defence.”

“Your sword and your bow will be most welcome.” Éomer replied and went back to eating his almost cold soup. He did not try to change her mind, for he knew it was a hopeless endeavour. 

He understood now that she would be wherever his sister was. 

*** 

The sun was bright when the people of Rohan began the long march back to Edoras. Éowyn walked in the lead, Elgarain and Gamling to each side of her. All horses were used to carry the wounded or pull carts with those too gravely injured to ride. Only the scouts were on horseback, all other soldiers walked along with the people. 

Progress was slow, almost everybody was hurt in some way and exhaustion had set in a while ago. Most soldiers had been awake for too long, fighting through the night and working throughout the day. Éowyn's limbs felt heavy and her body craved sleep, but she did not dare to let down her guard and remained tense and alert. She remembered only too well what had happened on the way to Helm's Deep, and the dangers of the route had not changed. The long line of the Rohirrim people had to cross the open plains again, a perfect spot for an attack. They might have won the battle, but they had not defeated the evil that had taken hold of these lands.

Éowyn only dared to breath freely when they passed the gates of Edoras and she knew her people safely inside the city walls. Together with Gamling, she organised the accommodation and the care of the wounded and got the household of Meduseld running again. She could not believe they had only been gone for e few days. It seemed like it had been years since they had left the city for Helm's Deep.

Late that afternoon, Éowyn stepped out of the Great Hall onto the terrace overlooking Edoras, her gaze searching the horizon for any sign of her uncle and his company that had left for Isengard to confront the Saruman the White Wizard. The wind blew the strands of her hair into her face, making them swirl all around her, crossing her view before disappearing again. It tugged on her dress, sometimes a gush of cold air touched her legs, but she did not mind. Before her were the plains of Rohan, reaching as far as the horizon, green and lush in the warmth of the sunlight that caressed the lands. Éowyn took a deep breath, let the fresh air fill her lungs and her very being, a little smile on her lips. This was home for her.

“You like this spot, do you not, my Lady?” The words were quiet, the affection obvious in the warm voice.

Elgarain had stepped up behind her without making any noise, yet Éowyn had known she was there long before she had spoken. Her silent presence had become a part of Éowyn's life and she did not want to ever miss it again, Éowyn realised when she felt the steady warmth of Elgarain's strong body in her back. 

“It means freedom to me.” Éowyn leaned back slightly, just enough to let her shoulders touch the Ranger. It was reassuring to know she was there, alive and well after the horrible battle, still with her every step of the way. “Thank you.”

“What for, Éowyn?” Her given name in Elgarain's familiar voice made goosebumps spread over Éowyn's skin, from her neck, where she could feel the warmth of Elgarain's breath, down her arms to the very tips of her fingers. Éowyn was quiet for a moment before she found her voice to respond.

“For keeping your promise.”

Éowyn felt Elgarain's hand touch her shoulder, then it slid down her arm in a slow caress that seemed to follow the path of the goosebumps until it found Éowyn's hand and entwined their fingers. Elgarain's thumb passed over the soft skin, gentle and reassuring. “I would never break a promise I gave you, Éowyn.”

Éowyn was quiet for a moment, then she squeezed Elgarain's hand. “I know.”

The silence that followed was comfortable, the only sound was the rustling of the flags in the wind. Éowyn did not move, just took pleasure in the moment, in the view, in the fresh air, in Elgarain's presence in her back, in the knowledge that her people were safe for now. It gave her more strength than a good night's sleep could have.

“There.” Elgarain said quietly into her ear after a while. “Look to the west.”

Éowyn turned her gaze and caught sight of a small group of riders coming straight towards Edoras. She knew who they were although they were too far away to be identified. It made her heart lighten and her lips smile to know that her brother and her uncle were about to return safely to Edoras. 

“They will be here soon.” Elgarain remarked, her gaze following the riders.

Éowyn nodded, leaning a little further into the warmth in her back. “Aye, they are coming home.”

***

Éowyn was so incredibly beautiful, her movements strong yet graceful. Elgarain watched the Lady walk up to her uncle to present him the goblet of wine for the traditional tribute to the dead and found that she could not look away. The light blue dress accented the Rohirrim's fair beauty, swinging around her hips elegantly when she walked. Her hair fanned out in soft golden curls, falling across her back and down to her waist, moving softly with her every step. But the most beautiful thing about her was the smile that lit up her face and made her eyes sparkle. It seemed to make her whole being glow, an effect that was enhanced by the warm light cast by the braziers spread throughout the Great Hall. 

It was mesmerising. 

Elgarain was caught in the atmosphere of the moment. She felt as if her focus entirely concentrated on the Lady and she had to shake herself out of it when Théoden King honoured those who had given their lives in the defence of Rohan so that she could pay them the respect they deserved. She raised her mug along with all the people present in the Great Hall of Meduseld and drank. She knew this war was far from over, it would not be the last time that she drank to honour of the dead.

Once the celebrations started, Elgarain found herself at a table with Master Éomer who was supervising a drinking game between Master Legolas and Master Gimli. The atmosphere in the hall was one of cheer and joy, the people were feasting and laughing and paying their tribute to those they had lost by telling stories and keeping the memory alive. Elgarain's heart opened to the people of Rohan and their hardiness, she admired their strength to deal with what had happened and go on with life without forgetting. In that very moment Elgarain felt a longing for the evenings she had spent in her village as a girl, sitting around the fire with her people, listening to their stories and drinking the warm spiced wine that Evonyn had always made. She had not thought about it in a long time, but right then, right there in the middle of the Golden Hall of Meduseld, she could hear their voices, could smell the scent of the fires and taste the spices of the wine on her tongue. It made her smile.

“What are you thinking about, my friend?” Éomer asked next to her, still watching the Elf and the Dwarf knocking back one mug of ale after the other. “You seem wistful.”

Elgarain closed her eyes, trying to keep the memory for a moment longer, before she turned to look at the Rohirrim. “Home.”

Éomer handed her a mug of ale. “Where is home?”

“My village was called Taurdal. It lay in the high north, beyond the vast forests of Rhudaur.” 

“You have ventured far, then.” He clinked his mug against hers in cheers. “How long have you been gone?”

“A very long time.” Elgarain shook her head, as if to make herself return to the present, then she took a sip of her ale. It was rich and sweet, so very different from the spiced wine she had just remembered. “There is no home anymore that I could return to. The powers of evil have destroyed it long before you were even born.”

Éomer was quiet for a while, drinking his ale and watching the Elf and the Dwarf continuing their competition. “I am glad to know you on our side.”

Before Elgarain could reply, the Dwarf's eyes crossed and he fell backwards, hitting the floor with loud clattering. Master Legolas looked at him with a well hidden smirk before he declared matter-of-fact, “Game over.”

Éomer checked on the Dwarf while the Men around the two contestants cheered loudly. “It would seem you have won this competition, Master Legolas.”

The Elf inclined his head gracefully in acceptance. Elgarain watched him shake the hands he was offered by the Rohirrim who had been following the events from the sidelines. She set her empty mug on the table and then left to look for Éowyn, but it was the Lady who found her before Elgarain had even crossed the hall halfway. She was carrying a goblet in her hands and approached Elgarain with slow but determined steps, her gaze focussed on the Ranger.

“Westu Elgarain hál.” Éowyn said with a little smile on her lips that was beautiful in its silence when she stopped right in front of her.

Elgarain could not help returning it when she reached out to accept the goblet she was offered. She covered Éowyn's hands with hers, her thumbs gently caressing the Lady's skin before she raised the goblet to her mouth to drink. She never broke the gaze, taking pleasure in the intensity of the emotions she could read in Éowyn's eyes. 

“Thank you, my Lady.” Elgarain was surprised how rough her voice sounded when she returned the goblet. Now it was Éowyn who covered Elgarain's hands with hers, a warm caress of skin on skin. 

“You are most welcome, Elgarain, Ranger of the North.” Though the words were formal, the Lady's voice was warm and felt like the softest fabric caressing Elgarain's skin. She felt it pass over her whole body, from her shoulders to her toes, and it made her skin come alight with a passionate fire she had not experienced in a very long time. When the sound of music entered Elgarain's awareness, she smiled and held out her hand, palm turned upwards in a silent invitation that was mirrored in her eyes. “Will you do me the honour of dancing with me, my Lady?”

Wordlessly, Éowyn put her hand in Elgarain's, her fingertips caressing Elgarain's wrist, the touch light and almost teasing. Elgarain couldn't help smiling when she closed her fingers around the Ladys' and led her to the free space where some couples had gathered. The Lady put the goblet on a table without paying any attention to it, her gaze never leaving Elgarain's face. She took up position in front of her, falling into the familiar movements of the dance immediately.

It was as if they had done this a million times before. Never once was there a moment when they had to think about the next move. Elgarain felt a profound sense of contentment at the ease with which they fell in sync, that ruled their steps, their bodies, their minds. It was as if she had known all along what Éowyn's hand would feel like in hers, how the gentle, graceful movements of her body would coincide with her own, how they would flow together in perfect harmony. They thought as one, they moved as one, and Elgarain gave herself into it wholeheartedly, enchanted by the sensation of completeness that filled her.

Yet nothing felt better than seeing her every thought reflected in Éowyn's eyes and in the gentle smile that was meant for nobody by Elgarain. 

*** 

The light of the hall was warm and welcoming, giving the laughing men and women a glow that made them seem happy, made the grief of the battle lose its weight, at least for the moment. Éomer watched his people with a content smile, happy to see them gather their strength after the duress of the battle they had fought only three days ago. He let his gaze travel through the hall, nodded to Aragorn and the Elf before his eye was caught by a group of dancers. To one side of the hall, where some men and women had gathered with their instruments to play a joyous tune, several pairs had come together and moved about. Some swayed slowly, more chatting than actually dancing, while others were laughing carefree as they threw their partners around in familiar movements. 

It was one couple in particular that caught his attention, though. In the middle of the dancers, he spotted the slender form of his sister moving gracefully with a taller figure that after a moment he recognised as the Ranger. They were flowing with the tune of the music, effortlessly following the harmony. Their steps were precise yet easy, performed with a grace that was so much part of both women. Éomer couldn't help staring, mesmerized by the sheer beauty of their dance. There was a power to their movements, a sense of unity, that rendered him speechless and unable to look away. On his sister's lips lay a little smile that was beautiful in its silence, radiant yet private, her gaze linked with Elgarain's. The expression on Éowyn's face was mirrored in the Ranger's, and suddenly Éomer felt almost guilty, as if he was watching something he had no right to witness, something private, something intimate.

Éomer looked away, feeling his cheeks grow hot with a shame he had no explanation for. He had not done anything forbidden, yet he knew he has just intruded on a moment that was not his to share. Something was definitely going on between his sister and the Ranger. The connection they shared had nothing in common with the reluctant acceptance he had felt from his sister when he had been banished from Edoras.

When he looked up again, he could see neither the Ranger nor his sister. Éomer frowned in surprise and scanned the crowd with his gaze, but came up empty. They were gone. 

*** 

Elgarain had just closed the door to the Lady's chambers when she felt Éowyn's fingers in her hair, clenching into fists in the long strands and pulling her face down. There were soft lips on hers, not the least bit hesitating, and Elgarain opened her mouth to Éowyn's demanding tongue that passed over her lips in a slow, questioning caress. Éowyn pressed against her from head to toe, melting against her body, yet remaining demanding and strong. Her movements were as fevered as they were possessive, and each touch of skin on skin made Elgarain burn with desire.

Ever since that first moment of surprise had passed, Elgarain's hands had settled on the Rorirrim's waist, wandering over the soft fabric of her light blue dress, caressing the gentle swell of her hips, the graceful arch of her back, the strong sharpness of her shoulder blades. With every movement, Elgarain felt Éowyn's long blond strands shift softly over the skin of her hands as if they were caressing her, and she knew she would never be able to get enough of that feeling.

She could not tell how much time had passed when Éowyn pulled back and rested her forehead against Elgarain's, her breath coming in fast, shallow gasp and her hands only loosening their grip on the dark hair to cup the Ranger's jaw. “Do not leave me alone tonight, Elgarain.” 

When Elgarain heard the low voice, tone warm and hopeful and a tad insecure, she opened her eyes to look into the face of her Lady. Éowyn's gaze was fixed on her, and Elgarain knew she was lost; she had already been for a long time. Éowyn owned her heart, whether she knew it or not. 

“I will not.” Elgarain replied quietly and bent her head to kiss her lips, a soft touch of skin, a promise. Éowyn wrapped her arms around her and buried her head against Elgarain's neck.

“Do not ever.” The Rohirrim whispered against her skin so quietly that Elgarain was not even certain she had been meant to hear it. She tightened her hold on the beautiful, strong woman in her arms, pulled her close and buried her nose in the blond strands. Against the skin of her neck, she felt the gentle touch of Éowyn's lips, their warmth moving over her throat, followed by the teasing caress of her tongue. Goosebumps spread all over Elgarain's body and a shiver passed through her. She knew Éowyn had felt it when she heard the low chuckle and felt a teasing bite right below her collarbone.

“Your neck is sensitive.” Éowyn mumbled before biting her again, a little bit stronger than before. She was leaving a mark and Elgarain knew it. She titled her head to one side, granting Éowyn better access, secretly relishing her possessiveness. Never before had Elgarain accepted somebody's claim, she had always refused every attempt made to bind her. It was only to her people and her duty she had acknowledged ownership, never to another person. She would have accepted Arathorn's claim, but it had never been meant to be and she had known that all along.

Éowyn's claim, made in gentle touches, deep gazes and honest smiles, she would acknowledge without a moment's hesitation, without a second thought. She had given her allegiance the moment she had first set eyes on the strong, defiant Lady of Rohan, even if she had not realised it at the time. Now that she smelled the mesmerising scent of Éowyn's hair, felt the teasing sharpness of teeth on her neck and the gentle but determined grip of a hand on her waist, Elgarain understood that there had never been a choice for her. She would not have wanted it to be any different. 

Deft fingers found the fastenings of her waistcoat and opened them, pushing the leathern garment from her shoulders. Elgarain heard the soft rustle when it fell to the ground, but she did not care. Her focus was directed at the fingers that were working on her tunic and quickly found a way underneath, warm fingertips on her skin, passing along her shoulder to her collarbone. Goosebumps followed in their wake, warm and exciting, and Éowyn claimed her lips in another passionate kiss that stole Elgarain's breath. 

She did not remain idle, her hands working on the fastening of the coat Éowyn wore over her dress. It did not take long to open them and Éowyn shrugged out of the garment, only letting go of Elgarain's lips long enough to remove it. She then took hold of the hem of Elgarain's tunic and pulled it over her head before carelessly throwing it aside. Elgarain felt the cool air on her bare arms, her thin undershirt the only barrier between her skin and the cold. She did not freeze, though, the heat that had taken possession of her mind and her body was fuelled by the sight of Éowyn's lips, red and swollen from their kisses, her face and neck flushed and her eyes burning with want. 

Éowyn's hands came up and settled on her neck, caressing the back of her head before she pulled Elgarain in for another kiss, this one slow and thorough, an exploration and a declaration at the same time. When she let go, her hand found the white fabric wrapped around Elgarain's left upper arm, her fingertips passing over the bandage in a feather light touch. Her other hand settled on the side of Elgarain's face and guided it down. Éowyn slowly raised her head and infinitely gently touched her lips to the healing gash on Elgarain's forehead, then to the one on her cheek, before she rested her forehead on Elgarain's shoulder. For a moment she caressed the skin of Elgarain's arm, right next to where her hand was closed around it in a firm but gentle grip, before she kissed the white bandage. 

Elgarain felt her throat close up with a feeling she could not define but that she understood nevertheless. She touched her nose to Éowyn's, seeking comfort as much as giving it. Éowyn's one hand stayed firmly on Elgarain's arm, the other found its way beneath the thin undershirt, settling on the skin of Elgarain's waist. She raised her head and initiated another kiss, her breath warm on Elgarain's lips. Heat rose inside the Ranger, growing with every touch, and she heard herself give a low moan when she felt Éowyn's hands travel all over her body. 

A moment later, Éowyn let go of her and pulled back. Elgarain opened her eyes and found the Rohirrim looking at her, mouth half open, eyes burning. Then a small, almost teasing smirk appeared on her lips and she pushed Elgarain backwards, gently but determined, until the back of the Ranger's legs connected with the bed. She followed the motion and sat down, then fell backwards until her head touched the softness of the pillows. Éowyn gathered up her skirt and climbed on top of her until she was straddling her thighs, her eyes never leaving Elgarain's. She slowly bent forwards until her hands rested on the bed to each side of Elgarain's head. 

Elgarain stared, her heart beating frantically in her chest, her breath coming too fast. She looked up into Éowyn's beautiful face, flushed red with arousal, eyes dark with desire, the curtain of her long hair fanning out around them both as if shielding them from the world. Elgarain had to lick her suddenly dry lips, unable to say anything. 

“I want you, Elgarain.” Éowyn's voice had become dark and rough, a sound that made goosebumps spread all over Elgarain's body with its almost smoky timbre. “I want everything you are willing to give me.”

Elgarain took a slow, deep breath and smiled, finally finding her voice. “Then you shall have everything.”


	6. Chapter 6

[ ](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/nanuk_dain/16335757/92742/92742_original.jpg)

The light of the fire was warm and flickering gently, drawing soft patterns of light and shadow on Elgarain's bare skin. She was lying on her stomach on the bed, her head resting on her folded arms and her eyes closed, a soft, satisfied smile playing around her lips. Éowyn watched it from where she was propped up on her left elbow, one leg thrown over Elgarain's under the blanket that was pulled up to their hips.

It was dark outside, the night just about past its zenith, and the muted sound from the people of Rohan celebrating echoed over from the Golden Hall. It was easy to ignore them, easy to forget the world that lay beyond the door to her chambers, and Éowyn allowed herself the luxury of living in this moment only, banning the past and the future from her thoughts. She felt pleasantly exhausted in a way she had not experienced before, tired yet satisfied from the past hours of lovemaking, of passion, of desire. It was a night she would never forget, a memory that would always make her smile, and while she ran her fingertips over the lines the fire drew on Elgarain's skin, she paid close attention to remember every detail. 

She noticed the scars again, the ones she had seen on that very first day she had met Elgarain. The Ranger had taken a bath, and Éowyn remembered being fascinated by her strong yet lean body and by the scars that were scattered all over her skin. Tonight, she had felt those scars under her fingertips when she had held onto Elgarain in the heat of the moment, had clawed at her skin at the hight of pleasure. 

Now Éowyn was tracing her finger down the long scar that ran from Elgarain's left shoulder blade all the way down to her hipbone. It was the same one she had wondered about on the first day. It was faded and almost white, a sign that it was old and had been part of the Ranger's body for a long time. Éowyn bent down to press a kiss on the puckered skin. “Where did you get that from?”

Elgarain did not move, did not tense or even shift. Her voice was low and sleepy, her eyes still closed. “Uruk-Hai blade. It was poisoned. Took me a while to recover. It was a long cut, but not particularly deep. It happened a long time ago.”

Éowyn bit her lip at the realisation how many times Elgarain would have come close to death before Éowyn had even been born. She pressed another kiss to Elgarain's back, then she let her fingertips continue their journey over Elgarain's body, slowly caressing the skin she touched, drawing mindless patterns. It did not take her long to reach another scar, this one a small circle high on Elgarain's right shoulder.

“And that one?”

“Arrow.” To Éowyn's surprise, Elgarain chuckled with amusement, never opening her eyes. “Dirhaborn, my best friend when I grew up, accidentally shot me instead of the target. Fortunately he got better when we became older. It was the first scar I received from a weapon.”

Éowyn let her finger pass over it. “You do not seem to mind what happened.”

“Nay, I do not.” Éowyn could see the smile that lay on Elgarain's lips. “I like that scar. It reminds me of the good things that have long since passed.” She smirked. “I never let him live it down, for years afterwards.”

“Where is he now?”

Elgarain took a deep breath and opened her eyes. Éowyn felt her tense slightly under her hand. “Dirhaborn was killed shortly after I left my village.” 

She felt it was a sore subject, something Elgarain did not want to talk about, at least not now when it was about to destroy the pleasant haze of aftermath. So Éowyn's fingers moved on, left that scar behind to find another one. It was on Elgarains left arm, right above the seam of the white bandage that served to protect the injury she had received during the battle for Helm's Deep. “What caused it?”

“A knife.” Elgarain's smile was grim. “It was a fight with an unruly individual in a pub close to the Shire. He did not understand the meaning of the word 'no'. He does now.”

Éowyn stared at the longish scar with a frown. “You have led a hard life.”

“It was not harder than yours. Just different.” Elgarain turned around halfway until she was resting on her side, not shamed by her nudity in the least. Éowyn couldn't help noticing more traces of old injuries on her chest and her stomach. Elgarain caught her gaze and smirked, raising an eyebrow. “Do you intend to cover every single one of my scars?”

Éowyn nodded, her hand reaching out to trace a finger along a white line of long healed skin that ran across the lower part of Elgarain's ribcage. “I want to learn what stories lie behind them.”

Elgarain's smirk widened. “I have you know that I have acquired quite a few scars over the decades.”

Éowyn leaned forwards and pressed a kiss to the scar she had just caressed, then she trailed her tongue along the slightly elevated skin. She smiled when she felt Elgarain shudder under her touch and only pulled back to catch her gaze. “It will be my pleasure to find them all and pay them tribute.”

Elgarain turned around until she was lying on her back, presenting herself to Éowyn's touch. Her eyes were hooded and her voice was low and rough when she replied, “It will not only be your pleasure.” 

“I am glad to hear that.” Éowyn smirked, then she followed an imaginary trail that led from the scar further south. 

*** 

Sleep made her look innocent and peaceful. It took years off her face by smoothing out the lines of tension, of worry and concern that were almost always present during the day. The soft light of the early morning gave Éowyn's skin an even fairer complexion than she already had and made her look fragile and precious. Elgarain knew about the strength that lay underneath the misleadingly petite exterior, knew about the courage, the will and the sense of duty that made the Lady of Rohan who she was. She knew the skilled swordsman and the strong warrior that lived within the small stature. Yet in this very moment, with the blond strands falling into Éowyn's face, Elgarain felt a tenderness and a profound urge to protect her that was not eased by the knowledge of her Lady's strength.

The blanket had slid to the side, exposing Éowyn's shoulder to the cool air inside the chambers, and Elgarain reached out slowly to pull the thick wool up to her Lady's neck. Éowyn shifted slightly, never opening her eyes. 

“What time is it?” she murmured, her voice heavy with sleep.

Elgarain smiled and let her fingers trail over Éowyn's cheek with a touch as light as a feather. “Not yet dawn.”

“I dreamed I saw a great wave climbing over green lands and above the hills. I stood upon the brink. It was utterly dark in the abyss before my feet. A light shone behind me but I could not turn.” Éowyn's eyes opened, yet she seemed to be caught up in her dream, seeing things Elgarain could only imagine. A tear ran down her cheek, leaving a glistering trail on her skin. “I could only stand there, waiting.” 

“Night changes many thoughts.” Elgarain raised her hand to wipe away the trace of the tear, then she bent down and gently touched her lips to Éowyn's forehead. “Go back to sleep, my love.”

Éowyn relaxed under her touch and shifted closer, snuggling against Elgarain's side in an unconscious demonstration of trust that made Elgarain feel warm all over. She slowly raised her hand and let her fingers card through the long blond strands of Éowyn's hair, a soothing caress she did not stop even when her Lady was sound asleep again. 

Dark times were coming, Elgarain felt it somewhere deep down insider of her. The war for Rohan was not over yet. The fight for Middle Earth had just begun, and it would be a hard fight. Elgarain sighed gently and let a golden strand run through her fingers.

“Sleep while you can, Éowyn.” she murmured and pressed another lingering kiss to her forehead. 

[ ](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/nanuk_dain/16335757/37720/37720_original.jpg)

*** 

The next morning, Gandalf the White left for Minas Tirith with the Hobbit Pippin accompanying him. 

Éowyn did not know what had happened when she had been summoned to join the council shortly after sunrise. Her uncle and her brother were there, along with the White Wizard, Master Aragorn, the Elf and the Dwarf. Elgarain stood next to the two Hobbits, her face serious. She had left Éowyn's chamber in a hurry when there had been screams coming from down the hall, and Éowyn understood immediately upon entering the Great Hall that something serious must have happened.

It became clear in the course of the meeting that one of the Hobbits had touched the palatír that had been in Saruman's possession before his defeat, and that Sauron had gained access to his mind, trying to press for information. It seemed that things were not as bad as they could have been, since Pippin had not given up any important information. To the contrary, he had even found out about the plan of the Evil Lord to destroy Minas Tirith. That revelation demanded action. 

Éowyn looked at her uncle with a worried frown on her face when he refused to come to Gondor's help. She understood where his reasoning came from, but she also understood that this was not the time for petty revenge. It were not the single kingdoms that faced death and destruction, it was the whole of Middle Earth. The fall of Gondor's capital would only be the beginning. She worried that her uncle refused to see that.

Within the hour, the White Wizard and the Hobbit had left for Gondor to warn the inhabitants of Minas Tirith. In Edoras, routine slowly returned in the days following their departure. The absence of the friends and family who had fallen in battle was a constant shadow over the people, yet they tried to keep spirits up and not to let grief overwhelm them. The Rohirrim were a sturdy people, Éowyn knew that, but it pained her to watch gestures aborted in the last moment when somebody realised the person they were expecting was not there anymore and would never be again. But everybody knew that life had to go on, just like it always had, and so they gritted their teeth and continued with their tasks.

Éowyn was busy with so many things that it was easy to ignore the empty spaces where just a week ago, a familiar face had been. She made sure to keep up the constant work to prevent her mind venturing into memories of the battle or worries about the future of her people. She knew she should be grateful that she had not lost her family in Helm's Deep, that her uncle, her brother and Elgarain had come out of it mostly unharmed. 

Yet she could not help worrying, and one evening, when she stood on the terrace overlooking the city and the plains, she found herself voicing the doubt she had not wanted to admit. Elgarain had joined her in watching the sun set, standing just close enough that Éowyn could feel the warmth of her body at her back.

"What will happen if the beacons are lit and yet my uncle decides to ignore Gondor's call for aid?" Éowyn's voice was very low, her words almost silent as if she worried that saying them aloud would make them true.

Behind her, Elgarain seemed to think about her question. "Minas Tirith will fall, the throne of the lost Kings of Gondor will be destroyed in an attempt to once and for all annihilate Isildur's heirs and keep them from regaining power. Gondor will come under the rule of the Evil Lord, its people will be eradicated. But many Rohirrim might live who would otherwise die in a lost battle for a city that is not theirs." For a moment, the Ranger fell silent, then she continued with a voice that sounded hollow. "Once the lands of Gondor are taken, the Evil will venture into Rohan. It will come on to the kingdom that defied it with all its strength, and there will be no allies left who could come for Rohan's aid. The people of the Riddermark will share the fate of their kinsmen in Gondor, it will just happen a little later."

Éowyn swallowed against the lump that had formed in her throat. She could see the images in her head, remembered her dream about exactly the fate Elgarain was describing. It made her skin crawl with horror. 

"There is no miraculous victory in this war, Éowyn. People will die fighting on all sides, but I think you know that riding for Gondor is not about saving one city, it is about all of our future. We are at the brink of destruction, and if we do not stand by each other now, we will not be given a second chance." Elgarain was looking at her, eyes dark and serious. "Aragorn will ride for Gondor, no matter what Théoden King decides, and Master Legolas and Master Gimli will follow him."

"And you will join them." The words had left Éowyn's mouth before she had thought about them, yet as soon as they were spoken, she knew them to be the truth.

Elgarain was quiet for a moment too long, and Éowyn's heart tightened when her assumption was confirmed. "Yes, I will. I do not know what we can achieve on our own, but we have to try. It is of uttermost importance for the fate of Middle Earth to prevent the destruction of Minas Tirith." Elgarain paused and took a deep breath. "I will not give up without a fight. Even if it is a lost one."

Éowyn turned towards her, her words born out of sincere determination. "I would join you and fight for what is right, even if my uncle does not agree."

The look in Elgarain's eyes was such a mixture of feelings that Éowyn could not identify them. "I would never ask that of you, and neither would Aragorn. Your place is with your people, Éowyn. It is to them that you owe loyalty, not to us."

Éowyn unconsciously straightened and squared her shoulders. "It is for them that I would fight."

"Let us hope that it does not come to it. Maybe your uncle changes his mind." Elgarain said and to Éowyn, it sounded like a weak attempt to change the topic. It seemed that the Ranger did not want her to join combat, but she did not dare to say so. Éowyn bit her lip to force herself to be quiet. She knew everything she was about to say would only end in an argument, and she did not want to fight with Elgarain about something that might never come to be. Not now when the times were dark and dire, and she valued the comfort of Elgarain's closeness too much to give it up due to a pointless argument. 

It was the next morning that shouting came from the hall. As soon as she had heard the sound of Master Aragorn's voice, Éowyn let go of her work and hurried into the Great Hall. She knew that something serious must have happened to make the usually so quiet man shout through the hall.

“The beacons of Minas Tirith! The beacons are lit!" Master Aragorn came running into the Great Hall, his face abuzz with emotion. "Gondor calls for aid!”

The silence that followed his words was oppressive in its laden intensity. All eyes turned towards Théoden King, as did Éowyn's. She felt her heart beat frantically while she held her breath in anticipation.

When her uncle's voice echoed through Meduseld, it was strong and firm and full of determination. “And Rohan will answer!”

Éowyn let out a sigh of relief that came from the bottom of her heart. Her uncle had seen reason after all.

*** 

Aragorn patted Hasufel's neck before he tightened the saddle girth. All around him, men were gearing up, preparing their horses, packing weapons and supplies. It was the activity of men with a mission, men who had come to a decision and would support it to the very last moment. It did Aragorn's heart good to feel the determination of the Rohirrim people to fight for Gondor's defence, not just because their King had ordered it, but because they knew it was right.

Out of the corner of the eye, he noticed the slender figure of the Lady of Rohan coming up next to him. She was leading her horse out of the stables, saddled and packed for travel. 

“You ride with us?” Aragorn asked, slightly surprised at the idea of a Lady riding with them to war.

“Just to the encampment.” She replied casually, but there was a tension to her shoulder that told him there was more to it. “It is tradition for the women of the court to farewell the men.”

Aragorn spotted the odd way the blanket bound to her saddle stood out, and when he reached out and lifted it, it was to reveal the sword hidden underneath. The Lady grabbed the fabric immediately and pulled it back over the hilt of the weapon, a fierce expression on her face that lasted only a moment, then she regained her composure and straightened. “The men have found their captain. They will follow you into battle, even to death. You have given us hope.”

Aragorn stepped back and to his own horse, never breaking the gaze. “Does she know?”

The Lady did not reply, but she clenched her jaw for a split second. It told him everything he needed to know. She had not told Elgarain about her plan, a plan that Aragorn could hear as clearly as if the Lady had spelled it out for him. 

“She deserves to know.” He said quietly, forcing her to hold his gaze. He knew how deep Elgarain's loyalty to the Lady ran, how much she meant to her. His friend would follow the Lady if she knew there was no way to keep her out of the battle, and Aragorn understood that there was nothing that would hold the fierce Lady of Rohan back this time. It was not his place to tell anybody about her plan, but he could at least make sure that the Lady rode with appropriate backup. "She will be by your side if you let her."

Lady Éowyn looked at him for a long moment, then she gave a short nod instead of a reply before she continued gearing up. She would think about it, then. Aragorn accepted it as a step in the right direction, but decided to push a little more.

"My Lady." he said to gain her attention. She looked up and he firmly held her gaze. "You should know better than to doubt her loyalty to you.” 

Without saying anything else, Aragorn mounted Hasufel and turned him to join the other in the courtyard. Now it was up to the Lady to act.

*** 

_"War is the province of men, Éowyn."_

Again and again, she heard the voice of her brother in her mind, speaking those words, and they made her angrier with each time she heard them. Why was it that men always thought that they were the only ones given the right to defend their people and to go to war for their king and country? Why did they think that a Hobbit was inapt to fight for his friends, just because he was smaller in size than Men? Why was it that they believed that _she_ had no right to fight for her loved ones because she was a woman? Why had she always had to stay behind when Théodred and Éomer had ridden out to defend Rohan when she had felt the same fierce loyalty, the same profound anger, the same urge to protect as they did? 

Éowyn gritted her teeth and stalked up and down in her tent, her movements tense and her steps harsh. She felt the anger boil up in her, all those emotions she had suppressed all her life to conform with what was expected from her as the Lady of Rohan, as the niece of the King, as the little sister and cousin of two great warriors. She had never been recognised for herself or for what she could do, she had only ever been seen in connection with her uncle, her brother, her cousin. 

Éowyn stopped pacing when her gaze fell on the chest at the foot of her makeshift bed. She had planned ahead, her disguise was stored inside, carefully hidden underneath blankets and clothing. A chain mail and an armour that actually fit her, a helmet that would hide most of her face and render her unrecognisable, make her just one of the men. Her mother's sword, blade sharpened and polished. Thinking of what she would do the next morning made her remember Master Aragorn's words that she should not doubt Elgarain's loyalty to her. He was right, she knew that, she should confide in her. Maybe tonight, when they went to sleep. For the past two nights, they had shared the tent, never hiding that fact. Since Éowyn and Elgarain were the only women in the encampment, nobody had given the arrangement a second thought. Aye, tonight would be the perfect moment, in the hushed silence of the night, when things were dulled by the darkness and the softness of impending sleep. When they were cuddled up together under the heavy blanket, sharing warmth and comfort.

A few hours later, Éowyn heard a commotion outside the tent. It was the underlying fear and the despair in the voices of the men that made her leave the tent in a hurry to see what was going on. She arrived just in time to see Master Aragorn ride past, the Elf and the Dwarf following right behind him on Arod. For two days, Éowyn had watched men of Rohan gather on the plains below Dunharrow, and she had seen fear in their faces. They tried to hide it, they would ride for their King, but still there was the profound sense of horror at what they would meet at the gates of Minas Tirith. They understood the importance of this battle and knew they would encounter a powerful enemy with no other goal than to destroy mankind. Seeing Master Aragorn leave them on the eve of battle, the man they had so much confidence in, was like a blow to a vital organ. 

Her uncle stepped up as soon as the voices of doubt rose and rumours threatened to spread within the encampment. He was honest, as brutally honest as she had always known him to be, admitting that Rohan's forces might not be enough to win, but that would not keep them from fighting for what was right. Éowyn listened quietly, her gaze drifting towards the dark mountain path that Master Aragorn and his companions had chosen to take. Nobody ventured there if they did not have to, and she instinctively knew it was a sign. She only hoped it was a good one. 

When Éowyn returned to her tent, Elgarain was nowhere to be seen. She had spent much of the time since their arrival in Dunharrow helping organising the forces and Éowyn had not seen much of her in the past days. She could not help wondering what was going to happen when the forces left. Would Elgarain ride with them or stay behind because Éowyn was supposed to? They had not talked about it, but deep inside her, Éowyn knew that Elgarain would not sit out this battle. When she had seen Master Aragorn leave tonight, she had halfway expected Elgarain to be by his side. Since she had not been, she still had to be in the encampment and it was not yet decided what was going to happen the next morning. 

Perhaps Elgarain would see that there was nothing that would hold Éowyn back and would ride with her to fight for Middle Earth, Éowyn wondered, right before gaze fell on the chest again and she frowned. Maybe, she admitted to herself in the privacy of her own thoughts, it hurt just a little bit that everybody, from her uncle and her brother to the common soldier, accepted Elgarain as an equal in their midst without even giving it a thought while they would not hear a word when Éowyn wanted to join their ranks. They were both women, yet Elgarain had a completely different standing within the men than her. Maybe it was her age and her experience, maybe it was because she was a Ranger of the North, maybe it was because she had proven herself in Helm's Deep, maybe it was because she commanded respect with her very presence and would not tolerate any disrespect. Éowyn was unable to define what it was, but she could not help feeling envious.

She straightened and took a deep breath to compose herself, reigning in her thoughts. She felt like she did Elgarain injustice with her envy and she did not like that feeling. Éowyn glanced at the bed they had shared and knew that even if she could do nothing more than cuddle close to Elgarain, she would take whatever comfort she could get tonight. She would not let her pride stand in the way of spending the night with Elgarain. Too well did she know that it might just as well be their last.

Éowyn turned and left the tent in search of her Ranger in order to get her to join her in bed. It was late, most men had gone to sleep for a few hours before they would ride at dawn. Éowyn was filled with restless energy and felt that she would be unable to fall asleep, yet she understood the importance of being rested for the coming days, so she would try. She had expected Elgarain living by the same rule, so she was rather surprised to find her with her horse, packing the saddle bags. Her movements were calm and sure, the ease of years of experience visible in her every action. Elgarain's clothes, the gear on her saddle, it all told Éowyn that she was preparing to ride in the morning. Somehow she had known it all along, but now that she was faced with it, she felt icy fingers run down her spine. 

Éowyn remained standing where she was, a good horse's length away, and just stared at Elgarain's back, the feelings insider her stomach curling into an unpleasant, cold ball. 

“You will ride to battle tomorrow.” It was a statement, not a question. 

Elgarain did not stop in her work, did not turn around. Éowyn was well aware the Ranger had heard her long before she had spoken. “Aye. I ride as part of your brother's eored.” 

“You will leave me behind.” The words slipped out before Éowyn could stop them, and she hated herself for sounding so weak and reproachful. “You did not tell me before because you do not want me to join.” 

Elgarain's hands stilled and after a moment she turned around. Her lips had tightened into a grim line, as if she did not like what she was about to say. She caught Éowyn's gaze only for a moment, the emotions in her eyes too diverse for Éowyn to determine before the Ranger looked down at her hands that were holding her bow and her quiver, a deep frown on her face. “Your place is with your people, Éowyn.”

It was then that Éowyn decided not to tell Elgarain about her plan to leave with the Rohirrim forces the next morning. She remembered Helm's Deep and how Elgarain had supported her uncle's order to have her stay behind in the caves. Now she seemed to share the general opinion that combat was no place for Éowyn. Her uncle, her brother, even Elgarain. Éowyn felt alone right in the middle of the people she loved, and it only strengthened her determination to follow through with her plan on her own. She could not risk the Elgarain keeping her from fighting for her people. 

Not this time. 

*** 

The next morning, Éowyn kissed Elgarain goodbye before they left the tent, then she bade farewell to her uncle and her brother, just like it was tradition. She felt bad for deceiving them the way she did, but she knew there was no other way. It was hard to keep her mask firmly in place until she was dismissed, then she hurried into her tent and changed into her disguise in record time. She donned the chain mail and the cuirass with deft fingers before she geared up and left through the back of the tent. The general turmoil of over six thousand men preparing to ride out helped her to blend in. It was when she mounted Windfola that she overheard the exchange between her uncle and Merry, and within a split second, she decided to take him with her. They were in the same position and they had to stand together. 

So Éowyn spurred her steed into canter and reached out when she passed Merry, her fist closing around the back of the Hobbit's collar. She gathered all her strength to pull him up in the saddle in front of her and said quietly once he was seated, “Ride with me!”

She felt the tension ease in the little body, then she heard Merry's voice, sounding pleased. “My Lady!”

The ride was long and hard. Éowyn was glad that she had grown up in the saddle, that she was used to long hours of travelling. Still, she felt a profound ache in her whole body when they finally stopped for the night. There had only been a few short breaks during the day to water and feed the horses, otherwise they had kept up a fast pace. Merry, who was not used to riding, did not complain about the pain he was obviously in, and Éowyn felt proven right in her claim that Hobbits were stronger than they looked. 

The night was too short and in the morning, Éowyn felt even more tired then when she had gone to sleep. Merry moaned and moved like an old man, eyeing the horses with quiet reproach, but he mounted Windfola in front of her without a word. The day passed in a blur, an interesting mixture of boredom and stress. The long hours of riding were monotonous now that the first enthusiasm had worn off, yet there was the constant thought of Minas Tirith and the knowledge that each hour that passed demanded countless lives in Gondor. 

All throughout the journey, Éowyn kept an eye out for her brother, her uncle and Elgarain, always making sure not to ride too close. She did not want to risk being recognised, yet it made her feel better to know them nearby. She did not speak a word with anybody but Merry, well aware of the fact that her voice would give her away immediately. It was not difficult to stay secluded even in the middle of six thousand men. 

When they stopped late that afternoon to water the horses at a small lake, Éowyn took the risk of removing her helmet to take a deep breath and absorb the last sunshine of the day. She knew she was dirty and that the filth on her face as well as her badly ruffled hair made her disguise even better. She blended in effortlessly with the men around her, some barely out of their boyhood, without a beard yet, and she could pass as one of them without a problem. She understood Elgarain a little bit better now.

“The scouts report Minas Tirith is surrounded, the lower levels in flames. Everywhere legions of the enemy advance.” The voice of her brother made Éowyn turn around, only halfway, though, as to avoid showing her face to him. Close behind him she saw the straight figure of Elgarain who was just about to stop her horse next to Théoden and Éomer. 

“Time is against us. Make ready!” her uncle urged once he had heard the ill news.

“Take heart, Merry.” Éowyn looked away from her uncle, feeling cold even in the sun. “It will soon be over.”

“My lady. You are fair and brave and have much to live for and many who love you.” Merry said quietly and Éowyn caught his gaze flickering to where her uncle and her brother were discussing something with Gamling, Elgarain and the other leaders of the eored. Elgarain's hair was pulled back in her usual braid, but Éowyn could not help the memory of what the strands felt like under her fingers passing through her mind. She could feel their softness under her fingertips, craving to open that plaid and run her hands through the dark curls. Just for one moment she wanted to find comfort in touching Elgarain, in feeling her presence right next to her, close enough to appreciate the warmth that radiated off her body. 

Éowyn bowed her head, looked away. She did not want to feel this, did not want to crave another person's comfort when she should have the strength to achieve her goals on her own.

“I know it is too late to turn aside. I know there is not much point now in hoping.” Merry continued after a moment and she knew he had watched her. “If I were a knight of Rohan capable of great deeds… but I am not. I am a Hobbit. And I know I cannot save Middle Earth. I just want to help my friends. Frodo, Sam, Pippin. More than anything I wish I could see them again. ”

Éowyn did not know what to say. She understood him, yet she felt so aloof from the men around her that is almost scared her.

“Prepare to move out!” The voice of her brother echoing over the plains spared Éowyn to reply to Merry's words.

“Make haste!” Her uncle added, preparing to mount his horse. “We ride through the night!”

The sounds of the horns rose, travelled across the lands, alerting man and animal alike. A shiver ran down Éowyn's back, her arm, her legs, leaving goosebumps in its wake. She felt her heart stop, then quicken, and her energy returned, her despair forgotten. Next to her, Merry grabbed his helmet and put it on, every single one of his movements speaking of the same determined energy she felt. “To battle.”

Éowyn donned her own helmet, the one she had chosen because it hid the better part of her face, and she nodded to her companion. “To battle.”

This time, the urgent energy that had accompanied their departure did not disappear. It lasted throughout the night, fired their spirits and made them ride without rest until the morning sun rose in their backs. It was then that they reached the plains that stretched before the White City of Minas Tirith.

Éowyn took a deep breath in shock, an icy shiver running down her spine at the sight of thousands of creatures on the Pelennor Fields, covering the green and turning it black. The lower city wall lay in ruins. Many levels of the city were in flames, giving the white of its stone a ghostly red and black colouring. Thick smoke hung over the buildings, concealing them, yet not hiding the extent of the destruction. For a moment, she feared that they had come too late.

In front of her, she felt Merry shiver at the sight. She knew it had just sunk in what they were headed for, what impossible task they had chosen for themselves. Éowyn reached out and closed one arm around the Hobbit's shoulder. “Courage, Merry. Courage for our friends.”

She could not say if she muttered those words for his encouragement of for her own. 

Her uncle rode past, his words filling the men with strength and brightening their spirits, and Éowyn's eyes followed him. Her heart was beating frantically at the sight of the creatures forming ranks to prepare for the Rohirrim's attack and she squeezed Merry's shoulder briefly. “Whatever happens, stay with me. I will look after you.”

He nodded but seemed unable to speak. She felt a surge of excitement rush through her when the men around her followed her uncle's lead and screamed for the death of the Evil. She bit her lip, gathered her courage and let all the frustration, all the suppressed anger of the past years flood her mind. It was like a wave, small at the beginning but gaining force with every second that passed.

“Death!” When the scream left her mouth, she felt the high of her fellow warriors grab hold of her, filling her mind, giving new strength to her body. There were no aches anymore, no soreness from the long hard ride, no thirst and no hunger. There was only aggressiveness, the urge to ride and engage the enemy. It was a frenzy, and she gave herself to the feeling wholeheartedly.

When sounds of the horns echoed over the plains and the horses started moving, slowly at first and then gaining in speed, thundering straight for the enemy lines, she felt no fear. 

Her time had finally come.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it has been a while since the last chapter, and I apologize for making you wait. RL got very busy, to the point where I didn't even have the time to sleep, so my writing was put on the back burner. I'm almost done with the last chapter, so I won't make you wait that long again ^^ We're fast approaching the end, so I'd love to know what you think!

[ ](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/nanuk_dain/16335757/92742/92742_original.jpg)

It was instinct. It was experience. It was a dance.

A very deadly dance. 

One movement neatly passed over into the next, a chain of motions that she did not need to think about. They came to her like a reflex, ingrained into her very being, and she followed the flow without ever questioning her body's guidance. 

Most of her life, Elgarain had been obliged to fight. She had always been a warrior at heart, long before she had been allowed to join Arathorn's Rangers in training, and it was in moments like these, in the heat of battle, that she realised that it had become a part of her. She did not feel any pain, there was no exhaustion, no thirst, no hunger. She lived only in the moment, right here and now, all her senses focussed on friends and foes, on the chaos surrounding her, on her own movements. 

Somehow she had ended up close to the walls of the city when the fighting ebbed away and the last enemies fell. It took a while for the rush of blood in her ears to ease back to normal, for her panting breath to calm and her senses to return from their overly sharp attention to the usual level of awareness. It was always the same when she came out of a long battle, her body adapted to the rhythm of fighting, her mind focussed on defending, attacking, killing. Elgarain lowered the tip of her sword, blackened with the creatures' blood, and looked around. There were Men around her, Rohirrim and Gondorian soldiers mostly, and their presence told her that they had gained victory. 

Elgarain took a deep breath and when she let it escape again, she felt lighter, as if a burden had been taken off her shoulders. The battle for Minas Tirith had not been lost. The future was not set yet. There was still hope for Middle Earth.

She smiled.

A few minutes later, Elgarain was walking the battle grounds, her sword still firmly in her hand, assuming the task that followed every battle that had been won. Just a week ago, she had walked Helm's Deep, yet it seemed years away, long past. The Pelennor Fields were covered with dead, much like Helm's Deep had been, but Elgarain had seen enough aftermaths to know that every battle field looked the same. Blood, mutilation, death. The gist of war. 

There was an Orc to her left that was still breathing and she turned and stabbed his heart without blinking before she went on, checking the fallen Men for survivors. In the distance she spotted Aragorn, the Elf and the Dwarf amongst the carnage that battle had left in its wake. They performed the same task as her, as everybody still standing, although they all knew there was little hope to find anybody to save.

When a scream ripped through the ghostly silence that lay over the battle field, it went right through Elgarain's heart and froze her very core. She jerked around to find the source of the nameless agony and turned just in time to see Éomer fall to his knees. It was the way he let go of his helmet and his sword, never caring where they landed, that shook her, the fingers of dread creeping up her spine. Éomer was bent over, cradling a soldier in his arms. His face was a mask of horror, of grief, of insanity. Elgarain felt herself grow cold. There were only two people on this earth who could elicit such a reaction from him, his uncle and his sister. 

Elgarain knew exactly who he was holding even before she spotted the long blond strands reflecting in the sun.

She started running before she had even thought about it. No, no, no! This could not be happening! Not Éowyn! She was not even supposed to be here. She should be in Edoras, several days' ride away, in safety. Even before she had reached them, Elgarain knew her worst nightmare had come true. The exact thing that she had tried to prevent had come to pass.

Elgarain slid to her knees when she reached Éomer, coming to rest on Éowyn's other side. The Lady's eyes were closed and she was deadly pale, her face still like a mask. She had halfway left this world already, this much was obvious. When Elgarain looked up she met Éomer eyes, and she knew the same bone deep fear that lay in his gaze was mirrored in hers.

Elgarain would never be able to recall how she had got to the House of Healing in the city. She was not even consciously aware of the things that were going on around her, her whole focus concentrated on Éowyn. Elgarain felt panic take over at the sight of Éowyn's motionless body on Éomer's arms when he carried her to a makeshift bed once they arrived in the city. The Lady was limp and lifeless, and the Gondorian healer who had waved them in had soon called for help. Nobody knew what to do with her. There was no wound that explained her bad condition, the only obvious injury was her shattered arm. 

Elgarain stood next to Éomer, the anxiety increasing with every helpless look the healers threw in their general direction. He fared no batter than her, they were both on the edge, rendered restless and tense by the helplessness that seemed to grow the more time passed without anybody being able to do something for Éowyn. Éomer sat down next to the makeshift sick bed, gently taking her uninjured hand in his. There was despair on his face, his brows furrowed and his eyes dark with fear.

Elgarain watched him, her heart growing heavy. She should have known. All along, she should have known. She should have known better than to believe that her fierce Lady would give in this easily, especially when it meant that she was to stay behind. There was so much spirit behind the deceivingly frail exterior, such a deep call of duty, so much sincere loyalty to her people, such a fierce wish to go to battle with her fellow warriors. Elgarain had known these well hidden sides of her, the ones Éowyn did not show to her uncle or her brother. It should have made her suspicious when Éowyn had not put up more of a fight. 

Elgarain was reminded of that last evening before they had ridden for Gondor, and she suddenly saw it in a different light. When Éowyn had found out that Elgarain would ride with Éomer's eored while Éowyn was to return to Edoras, she must have felt as if Elgarain had betrayed her. As if she did not support her, as if she did not have her back. Of course she had not told Elgarain about her plan then, not when Elgarain had told her that her place was with her people and not on the battle field.

Elgarain let her head sink down until her forehead rested heavily on her fists. It was all her fault. She should have been by Éowyn's side. Not just in this battle, but the whole way. She had failed her like she had failed Arathorn. The guilt was almost overwhelming.

A hand on her shoulder interrupted her dark thoughts and made her look up. Aragorn gazed down at her with his usual calm grace, but the frown on his face belied his casualness. Elgarain felt that when she looked at him, everything she was feeling showed clearly on her face. She did not care. The only thing that mattered was that Éowyn survived, that she was not pulled over into the darkness by the evil that had touched her. 

“Is there anything we can do for her?” Elgarain asked quietly, her voice no more than a rough whisper. She knew this was not your typical injury. It was not about torn flesh, about shattered bone or blood loss. It was something worse, something dark and powerful that surpassed all her abilities. There was nothing she could do, nothing Éomer could do, nothing the healers of Minas Tirith could do. Even Gandalf, the powerful White Wizard, had come to Éowyn's bedside to have a look at her, but he had only shaken his head, his eyes sad. It was then that Elgarain had lost hope.

When Aragorn checked Éowyn's injuries, his fingers sure and calm, she felt a spark of it return. He had always been a skilled healer, rich in knowledge and experience. He looked up from the Lady after a short while, holding her gaze, and nodded in response to her question. “I need athelas. It is known to help those who were touched by the Black Breath.”

Elgarain let out a breath she had not been aware she had been holding. “Do they have it here?”

“Aye.” he stood, his movements calm and precise. “Let us not lose any more time. Get me warm, clean water, mortar and pestle, and cloth. I will see to the athelas.”

Elgarain nodded, never hesitating to follow his orders. He knew what he was doing, and he was Éowyn's best chance – her only chance – of surviving. Not to mention that it did Elgarain good to have something to do, to focus on something other than guilt and despair, to feel as if she could help her Lady in any way. 

Elgarain would never be able to say how much time had passed when Éowyn suddenly took a deep breath and stirred. Aragorn had placed a wet cloth on Éowyn's face for innumerable times with the patience of a true healer, had straightened the broken arm and had cleaned the cuts and bruises that covered her hands and her face. All the while, he had bathed her forehead and her arm in the concoction he had made out of the athelas, never tiring in his care. 

When Éowyn's eyes opened, her gaze dazed and her face still ghostly pale, Elgarain felt a wave of relief wash over her that was so powerful that it almost overwhelmed her. She had not dared to hope, the dread and the fear forming an icy knot in her stomach that had slowly started to strangle her. When the Lady's blue eyes found hers, even if only for a moment before she drifted back into sleep, Elgarain felt the knot loosen. She took a deep breath, for the first time since she had spotted Éomer holding his unconscious sister on the battle field, and allowed the joy that she felt inside to show on her face.

“She will heal, but it will take time and she needs much rest.” Aragorn said with a smile when he turned to look at Éomer and Elgarain. 

“We will make sure of it.” Éomer replied equally quietly, the relief plain in his every word. 

Aragorn nodded, then he turned to Elgarain, his gaze passing over her side before he looked up again. “Now you have to let me take care of your injury too, my friend.” His voice was firm and urgent and when she raised her eyes, she saw concern and worry in his gaze. “This looks severe, Elgarain.”

She frowned. What severe injury was he talking about? She felt no real pain, even though she knew she had multiple cuts and bruises, but there was nothing that hurt enough to be serious. “I am not gravely injured, Aragorn. Better tend to those who need it more than I do.”

“Your tunic is drenched in blood, my friend. It looks grave enough for me to make sure you are all right.” he replied with this firm, calm voice of his and pointed at her right side. She looked down, and true to his words, her tunic was blood-soaked. It had already run down the front of her trousers in long stains. She still did not feel any pain, but she knew that was because of the lingering high of combat and she could tell from the amount of blood that Aragorn was right. 

She glanced at Éowyn, not wanting to take Aragorn's focus off her healing. He must have caught her gaze, because he gently shook his head. “She is sleeping. There is nothing we can do right now but let the medicine take effect.”

There was a hand on her shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze. It was Éomer, looking at her with an expression in his gaze that she could not entirely define. “You will do her no favour by not taking care of yourself.”

Elgarain nodded. “All right.” 

Aragorn led her over to one of the makeshift beds close to Éowyn, as if he knew Elgarain would not let her out of her sight. Éomer took a seat beside his sister, enfolding her hand in his again, talking to her in an almost inaudible voice. It calmed Elgarain to know somebody by Éowyn's side who loved her as deeply as her brother. Elgarain felt as if his voice was an anchor for Éowyn, keeping her from slipping close to the darkness again in the vulnerability of her sleep. 

Aragorn touched her shoulder and pulled her out of her thoughts. “Lie down and let me have a look.”

Elgarain followed his quiet commands, took off her tunic and let him go to work. The high of battle slowly wore off now that the relief about Éowyn's wakening eased the fear that had numbed Elgarain's mind, and the pain of her injuries began to spread through her body. She did not look at what Aragorn was doing, she always held her gaze focussed on the sight of Éowyn and her brother, taking strength in their obvious love, their family bond of affection and caring. 

“You have taken a nasty blow, my friend. It will need stitches.” Aragorn remarked when he was applying some kind of herbs to her side before he readied the needle. “You will have to take it easy for a while. Do not put any stress on your side or the stitches will rip.”

Elgarain just nodded, a smirk on her lips. “It is not the first time I have this kind of injury.”

“I can see that.” Aragorn replied while he slowly and with a steady hand stitched the cut, and Elgarain knew he referred to the multiple scars he could see on the sliver of her exposed skin. “I figure you know how to take care of it, then.”

“I do.” Elgarain's gaze fell on Éowyn again, her heart lightening at the even rising of her chest that indicated that she was quietly sleeping. After a moment Elgarain looked up to catch Aragorn's gaze. When she spoke, her voice was low but full of heartfelt gratitude. “Thank you.”

Aragorn smiled at her, his eyes warm. He knew she was not referring to her own injury. “You are most welcome, my friend.”

*** 

There was darkness all around her, its cold fingers reaching for her, burning her skin wherever they touched her. She wanted to run away, to fight off their painful caresses, but she could not move, her feet rooted to the ground, her head unable to turn away. She was forced to watch, forced to stand the torture, no escape possible. 

It became worse, the darkness closing in on her, taking possession of her body, making it move towards its terrible coldness without her being able to stop it. It was then that she spotted the light, tiny and almost impossible to see. She focussed her gaze on it, never looking away for fear of losing its encouraging sight. She stared so hard that her eyes began to hurt, she strained against the immobility that hat taken hold over her. She knew she had to reach the light, knew that it was the only thing that mattered. So she fought with all her might, ignoring the burning touches, the claws that seemed to grip her feet, the tendrils that had wrapped around her arms. 

It took all her strength to get closer to the promising light, but she did not ease up in her efforts. She wanted to get to it, no matter how long it took, and she would not give up. It became her only thought, her passion, her whole life. She could not think beyond it and did not care. When she approached it, finally close enough to almost touch it, she could feel it, could smell it could taste it. It filled her whole being, and it was beautiful. It was soft and warm and eased the pain until she felt good again.

When she regained sight, it was to find a face hovering above her. She knew the man, was sure that she knew his name, but she could not find it in the chaos of her thoughts. She let her gaze drift, seeing unfamiliar stone and massive walls, not the wood of Meduseld. Then her eyes met blue ones, and she felt the weight on her chest ease as if there was all the healing power of the world in those eyes. A name floated into her mind, resonated inside her head. Elgarain.

Before she could help it, her gaze drifted again, as if it had a will of its own, and she found another familiar face, full of affection and relief. Éomer. Her brother. He was here with her, his hand gently squeezing hers, giving hope and strength. She heard his voice, warm and soothing, and even if she could not make out his words, she understood their meaning nevertheless. When she returned to the darkness, his voice followed her. It was a line of bright white that was bound to her, and it anchored her to the light and kept away the icy fingers with their burning, painful touch. The darkness was still lurking, waiting for her, but it could not get to her.

When she woke the next time, the first thing she noticed was the fresh, cool air that filled her lungs with every breath. When she opened her eyes, she was looking at a window and the sky beyond. It was blue, but there were dark clouds hovering on the edges, threatening to take up the entire view. Éowyn averted her gaze, she did not want to think about darkness. 

Instead, her eyes found Elgarain's face, her expression tense even in sleep. She was lying next to her on the bed, curled up on the very edge as if she was not sure if she was allowed to touch. She was resting on her left side while her arm was wrapped protectively around her own waist and holding her right side. Her hair spilled out across the pillow, her face pale under her tan, dark circles under her eyes and exhaustion written across her features. Éowyn slowly turned further to face her fully, watching her sleep. A few strands of brown hair had fallen in front of Elgarain's eyes, and Éowyn did not hesitate to reach out and gently stroke them back. 

Elgarain stirred but did not wake entirely. Her brows furrowed and her mouth opened in an almost soundless moan of pain. Éowyn let her fingers trail down Elgarain's cheek, trying to chase away the pain. She did not like seeing her fierce Ranger like this, almost as if defeated. At the insistent touch, Elgarain's lids fluttered open. Her eyes were vivid with emotion as soon as she noticed Éowyn looking at her. There were so many different feelings flickering through them, and Éowyn was mesmerised by the sight. Elgarain's mouth was slightly agape and her voice was rough when she murmured, “Éowyn.”

Éowyn did not say anything, she just continued watching her, her fingers never stopping their slow caress on Elgarain's cheek. It felt so good to have her here by her side, to wake up to find her close. Elgarain's hand came up, moving slowly, as if she feared Éowyn might disappear once she touched her. She hesitated for a split second, then her fingertips found Éowyn's eyebrow, trailing along the slender line to her cheek.

“I thought I had lost you.” Elgarain's voice was no more than a whisper, her eyes allowing Éowyn to see everything, holding nothing back. The fear, the pain, the hope, the relief. 

The love. 

Éowyn swallowed and bit her lip, needing a moment to regain her voice in the face of the depth of Elgarain's feelings. Then she leaned into the touch of the hand on her cheek and smiled, her voice no stronger than Elgarain's when she replied, “You have not.”

Elgarain smiled, tears shining in her eyes. She slid closer, her hand coming to rest on Éowyn's waist before she pulled her in, enfolding her in a strong, heartfelt embrace. She buried her nose against Éowyn's collarbone, holding on for dear life. Éowyn closed her arms around her, feeling the same need for contact. It soothed her, eased her troubled mind, warmed her exhausted body. It felt like the beautiful, bright light in her nightmare, and she would not let go of it.

“Do not dare to ever do that to me again!” She heard Elgarain murmur against her neck and she was reminded of her own words back at Helm's Deep. Elgarain's breath hitched and her voice broke at the last word, a shiver running through her entire body. Éowyn understood it in a way she could not explain and felt the urge to hold, to comfort, to protect. Her hand found Elgarain's hair, carded through it before wrapping around her neck and pulling her closer, never ceasing the soothing caress.

“I am sorry, Elgarain.” Éowyn murmured and pressed a lingering kiss to the soft hair. “I did not intend to hurt you.” 

“You scared me beyond reason, Éowyn.” Elgarain's breath was warm against the skin of Éowyn's neck, a soft wet caress. It was then that she felt the cool touch of a tear on her skin, and it shook her to her core to know that it had been her who had done this to Elgarain. The Dúnadan buried her face against her neck, the next words no more than a broken gush of air. “Understand that I cannot live knowing you dead!” 

Éowyn swallowed against the lump that had formed in her throat, a tight knot of emotion. She suddenly understood Master Aragorn's words, understood that she held not only Elgarain's loyalty but also her heart. It was a sweet burden, one she might sometimes fear to carry, but not one she ever wanted to give up. She would cherish it every day of her life.

She tightened her arms around Elgarain's shoulders, pulling her as close as physically possible. It was as much to comfort Elgarain as to reassure herself of the Ranger's presence. She pressed another kiss on the top Elgarain's head, unable to form words. She basked in the warmth of Elgarain's closeness, her honest affection, her profound loyalty. She saw Éowyn for who she was, not for what she was in connection to Rohan, to her uncle, to her brother. She saw the woman, the warrior, the free spirit that feared nothing more than the cage it had been threatened to live in.

Elgarain took a deep breath, then she said quietly, “I am sorry I did not stand by you when I should have.”

Éowyn thought about her words for a moment, never loosening her embrace. They had both made mistakes, and they had both learned from them. “And I am sorry I did not tell you that I had planned to ride with the men. I feared you would hold me back.”

Elgarain sighed against her neck. “You were not entirely wrong. I certainly would have tried to convince you to stay.”

“Why?” Éowyn asked quietly, no malice or reproach behind her words, just simple curiosity. “Why did you not trust me to hold my own?”

“It had nothing to do with me doubting you.” Elgarain raised her head enough to be able to look Éowyn in the eye without easing out of her touch. Her gaze was intense, the open honesty in her eyes giving her words even more weight. “You are a skilled swordsman, but you have no combat experience. How could I have let you go without a word if I knew you were riding for death?” 

She paused and frowned.“All those fighting in this battle had grown into it. They started out small, gained experience and became better.”Elgarain mouth pressed into a tight line. “Those who did not have long since died. You never had the chance to grow into it, to gain experience. I feared to lose you, Éowyn. It is that simple.” 

Elgarain held her gaze for a moment, and Éowyn understood that it was not the first time Elgarain had lost somebody to battle. The Ranger lay down again, her head on Éowyn's shoulder, her hand on her waist. She gritted her teeth for a second, Éowyn could feel the muscles of her jaw tense against the skin of her collarbone. “My father died when I was ten years old. Killed by Orcs.”

Elgarain fell silent for a while before she continued, as if she had to think about how to say what was on her mind. Éowyn wondered if she had ever talked about this before. It did not seem that she had. “I had always wanted to become a Ranger like he had been, even if he had always objected. The life of a Ranger is traditionally only allowed to men. After his death I voiced my wish, but I was met with resistance. Only Arathorn, Aragorn's father, supported me and took me on as apprentice to his group of Rangers.”

Éowyn felt her smile, as if a fond memory played before her eyes. “I was by far the youngest in the group and they did not go easy on me. I think they expected me to drop out once I noticed how hard a life it was to be a Ranger. But I did not, and after a year, I had become accepted by the men. I think they thought I did not notice, but I know they paid special attention to train me well. I was like their little sister and they knew I had to be able to protect myself because there would not always be somebody around to protect me.”

“Have there ever been women on the Rangers before?” Éowyn asked, curious about the world Elgarain came from. It was as if she was allowed a first glimpse at a life that was closed off to most others.

“None that I know of.” she replied and played with a strand of Éowyn's blond hair. “Tradition was valued highly, and even though women knew how to protect themselves, they were no Rangers. But I have always felt more at home in the wild with my group around a fire than within the confines of a house.”

Éowyn let her hand card through Elgarain's dark hair, enjoying the softness under her fingertips and the comfortable feeling it gave her. “How long did you remain in your group?”

A shadow fell on Elgarain's face and she tensed. “Not as long as I should have been.”

“Why is that?” Éowyn felt that it was the same topic that had come up when she had traced Elgarain's scars back in Eodras. Something must have happened that tainted all memories of home for Elgarain, and Éowyn could not help wanting to find out what it was, if there was anything she could do to ease the pain.

In her arms, Elgarain took a deep breath and remained silent for a moment, her fingers combing through the blond strand of Éowyn's hair, as if the movement calmed her. “When I was twenty years old, I left to take a post in Hithlin. Only hours later, Orcs attacked my village. They were fought back and Arathorn led a hunting party in the woods to take out any survivors. He was fatally injured in the fight. I heard of his death a few days after my arrival in Hithlin.”

Éowyn saw the lines of pain around Elgarain's eyes and her mouth, and touched her cheek gently with her fingertips. “You feel guilty.”

“I left him the day he needed my sword by his side.” Elgarain's voice was no more than a breath, laden with guilt. “I failed him as I failed you.”

“You did not fail me.” Éowyn said resolutely and cupped Elgarain's chin to make her raise her head so she could look into her eyes. They were dark with pain and suddenly Éowyn understood something she had not seen before. “You loved him. That is why you left.”

Elgarain's eyes flickered to her face, insecure, worried, filled with a grief that was decades old. “He was my mentor and he had a family of his own. It was not my place to interfere with his happiness, but it was also no solution for me to keep on suffering. So I decided to be of service as his eyes and ears in distant lands. Far enough away that I could find peace.”

She bit her bottom lip hard, a deep furrow between her brows, and looked at her fingers that still held the light blond strand of Éowyn's hair. “I knew I left at a crucial time, but I had not known the Orcs were that close to my village. I did not encounter any when I crossed the woods and it never occurred to me that my people were fighting for their life while I was running away from my heart.”

“You could not have known.” Éowyn replied and gently brushed a brown strand behind the Dúnadan's ear. “Look at me, Elgarain.”

Haltingly, she looked up. Éowyn caught her gaze and held it. “Your decision to leave was a wise one considering the circumstances, and I am certain it was not an easy one to make. It was not your fault that your village was attacked. Your presence would not have altered the course of the events. I understand your feelings, but you must not feel guilty for something that was not in your power to change.”

Elgarain sighed deeply, but did not look away. “I know that in my mind. But in my heart, I cannot free myself from the question what might have been if I had not left that day.”

“You might have died with your people. You might have survived with them. It is impossible to know.” Éowyn replied, firmly holding Elgarain's gaze, willing her to understand. “We might never have met.” 

Elgarain was quiet for a long time, her eyes mirroring the turmoil inside of her. “I was not by your side when you needed it most, just like I was not as his when he needed it, or by my people's when they needed it. I fear I bring only death to those I love.”

Éowyn felt her heart constrict at the sincere despair and the profound sadness she could read in Elgarain's gaze. She shook her head, gently but resolutely, and fixed Elgarain with her gaze. “Nay, you do not. You bring joy and warmth and comfort. You brought my smile back and you made me regain hope when I had long since given up on it. You have become a dear friend to my brother who has never allowed many people close enough to consider them friends. You might have made mistakes in the past, but that is human, and it does not mean that you are at fault. Do not take blame where it is not yours to take.”

Éowyn let her thumb caress Elgarain's cheek in a slow, soothing motion. When she continued, her voice was rough with emotion. “You are are the best thing that has happened to me in many years, Elgarain. Do not ever doubt that.”

There were tears glittering in Elgarain's eyes and an ineffably tender smile lay on her lips. She stretched to press a gentle, lingering kiss to Éowyn's lips before she rested her head on her shoulder again, burying her nose against Éowyn's neck. Éowyn could feel her smile against the skin of her throat. “Thank you.”

Silence fell, disturbed only by almost quiet breathing and the low noises filtering in from outside. Combined with the comfortable warmth of Elgarain resting against her, it lulled Éowyn to sleep. She felt exhausted beyond the strains of battle, and she knew that it was the encounter with the Witch King that was taking its toll. 

As soon as sleep claimed her, it was there again, the icy darkness with its painful touch. It tried to get to her, burn her with its profound coldness. But the worst sensation was the foul breath that touched her face, filling her nose and poisoning her body and mind. She knew it belonged to the Nazgul she had faced, she would recognise the smell everywhere. And then she saw it, the huge leathery wings and the sharp teeth that were closing around the form of her uncle's body. He flew through the air, high above her, and then there was a muted, blood-chilling thump when his body hit the ground. 

Éowyn felt another kind of coldness take hold of her, but this time it came from inside and it was so much worse that the pain of the darkness that tried to engulf her. It mingled with rage, cold-hot fury at the beast that had hurt her uncle, had dared to attack her family. The emotions were so strong that they almost choked her, the pain, the anger, the overwhelming feeling of helplessness and despair in the face of the powerful enemy in front of her. She felt the excruciating pain when her arm shattered under the mace of the Witch King, the blow so powerful that it threw her off her feet, driving the evil right into her very bones. Yet it was nothing in comparison to the agony that spread through her whole being when she saw the light in her uncle's eyes slowly die, when he breathed her name for the very last time, his voice barely above a whisper. She wanted to scream, wanted to kill the Witch King all over again, but the pain only grew stronger with every breath she took. The darkness closed in on her from all sides, blackening out the image of the battle field, of the dead beast, of her uncle. It hurt, it hurt so much, yet she was unable to fight it...

“Éowyn!” Her world shook, the darkness lifted, even if only minutely. 

“Wake up, Éowyn!” Her awareness widened, took in the hands on her shoulders, the concern in the familiar voice that called out to her. Fingers touched her cheek, warm and reassuring, and when she opened her eyes, Elgarain's face replaced the vision of her nightmare. “Shhh, you are safe, my love.”

Echoes of the terror still filled Éowyn's mind, only slowly vanishing in the face of consciousness. She could still hear her uncle's voice, the last word to ever leave his lips her name, and she felt the wetness of tears on her cheeks. “My uncle...”

Elgarain's eyes darkened with pain and she pulled Éowyn close, her arms a safe haven, and her voice an almost inaudible whisper against Éowyn's hair. “I am so sorry, Éowyn.”

Éowyn buried her nose in the reassuring warmth of Elgarain's neck, hiding from the pain as well as from the harshness of the world. She breathed in her scent, as soothing as the touch of Elgarain's hands in her hair, and it eased her wounded heart, even if only a bit. It was then that she remembered her companion in the defeat of the Witch King and she was overwhelmed with shame that she had not thought to ask before. “Merry!” 

Éowyn raised her head and found Elgarain's eyes. “Where is Merry? Is he...?”

Elgarain soothed her hand over Éowyn's cheek in a slow caress, never letting her finish her thought. “He is alive. Aragorn told me he is in the House of Healing and Pippin is with him.” 

Éowyn felt a wave of relief wash over her and the tension eased out of her. “That is good.”

“Do not worry, he will heal. Like you, he was touched by the Black Breath, but he is recovering. Aragorn treated him as well.” 

Before Éowyn could reply, there was a knock on the door, soft but determined. Éowyn rose from the bed and walked the door to find a Gondorian soldier in the hallway, standing at attention after offering a respectful bow. “My Lady, your and Mistress Elgarain's presence is demanded in the great hall.”

Éowyn frowned in surprise. “What is this about?”

“The Council of Captains has called for a meeting and you are asked to attend, my Lady.” The soldier was young, barely out of childhood, yet he there was a long gash on his cheek, a sign that he had already lost his innocence to the violence of the past days.

“Thank you.” Éowyn nodded and the messenger bowed before he retreated. She turned just in time to see Elgarain flinch when she tried to sit up, her teeth gritted and her hand pressing against her right side. Her breath was laboured and it was obvious that she was suppressing intense pain.

Éowyn walked over to the bed, a her face worried. The realisation dawned on her that there were other things she had not thought to ask. “What happened?” 

Elgarain stood up, but her movements were halting and lacked her usual grace. She did not look at Éowyn when she replied, “I was injured.”

Éowyn took hold of her chin and turned her face until she could look her into the eyes. “Is it serious?” 

Elgarain's mouth pressed into a thin line, but she did not avert her eyes. “It is not fatal.” 

It was not an answer, and Éowyn knew that her Ranger was not telling her the whole truth. Elgarain held her gaze for a moment longer before she turned and headed for the exit. “Let us go. It is not our place to make the council wait.”

Éowyn nodded and watched Elgarain cross the room. Her steps were careful and measured, and that alone told Éowyn more about the extend of her injury that her words. Yet it was not the time to address the matter, not with the council waiting for them. So Éowyn bit back the words that lay on her tongue and followed Elgarain out of the chambers.

They would talk later.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right, so this is not the final chapter – I need one more. I trust you don't mind ^^ I'm sorry for the long time inbetween the last few chapters, but work was like crazy, and then I spent three weeks in the high north of Norway and when I got back, I got sick and had to stay in bed for days, so this last chapter had to wait a bit before getting the final touch.

[ ](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/nanuk_dain/16335757/92742/92742_original.jpg)

The Great Hall was almost empty. Every sound echoed multiple times from the high ceiling and the huge stone walls. It was very different from the Golden Hall of Meduseld.

Just had the last words died away, leaving the plan to ride for the Black Gates hanging in the air and in their minds. Éomer watched the few people gathered in the hall, paying close attention to their body language. The Dwarf was sitting in the Steward's throne, smoking his pipe and watching the others just like Éomer was. The White Wizard was pacing up and down the marble floor, deep lines on his face speaking of a troubled mind. Next to Éomer stood the Elf, straight and unmoving, his eyes following the path of the Wizard. To his other side was the Ranger, her posture almost equally straight and as unmoving as the Elf's, her gaze flickering between Aragorn and the Wizard. To her right stood Éowyn, her face carefully blank in a way Éomer remembered only too well from the past years in Edoras. Her arms were crossed and her whole posture radiated tension. 

Just moments ago, Master Aragorn had had his back turned towards them all, facing the window of the side aisle, his gaze directed at nothing in particular. The lines of his body had been tense, his arms crossed before his chest. Now he had turned towards them, his movements slow and sure, the expression on his face resolute. He would be heading for the Gates, with or without their support. He would do whatever it took to give the Hobbits the time they needed to destroy the Ring. 

Éomer knew he and his Rohirrim would be at Master Aragorn's side. The decision was easily made. There was no doubt about what had to be done, and Éomer had always fulfilled his duty, be it to his uncle, to his people or to his country. He knew that the destruction of either the Evil Lord or Middle Earth was coming, and he intended to see his people live and Mordor fall, so he would do whatever was necessary to achieve that goal. Even if it meant riding to a battle that was lost before it had even started, a battle they knew they could not win by force of arms.

His gaze fell on his sister again. She looked better than she had yesterday, but there were still dark shadows under her eyes and her left arm was wrapped in white cloth. Although her posture was straight and her face blank, he could read the tension in the slender lines of her body easily. He had seen this side of her, this impersonal mask of reserved silence, too many times over the past few years to ever forget it. He had hoped to never see it again, but the death of their uncle had hit his sister very hard and had made her retreat into the familiar security of her cold façade. On top of the pain of losing Théoden, Éomer knew that he could not even begin to imagine the horrors and the torture she had been subject to under the influence of the Witch King's Black Breath. 

Éomer worried about her, but he knew there was little he could do to help her. He hoped that the Ranger's presence would ease her pain since Éowyn seemed to accept her in a way she accepted nobody else. He knew Elgarain had not left his sister's side ever since they had found Éowyn on the Pelennor Fields, and even now she was a steady presence right next to her. He could not help noticing, though, that the Ranger herself did not look too good. She obviously avoided putting any weight on her right leg and therefore her right side. Her face was a few shades paler than normal and she, too, had dark circles under her eyes. And while she looked alert, he recognised the signs of pain and exhaustion that were showing on her face. He wondered how much of it was caused by physical strain and how much came from her fear for Éowyn when they had believed they had her lost to death. 

Éomer did not like to think about those dark hours when he could do nothing but watch his sister lying motionless on the makeshift bed in the House of Healing. When he had recognised her on the Pelennor Fields, he had felt as if his heart had been ripped out. He still had not come to terms with the fact that she had ridden with his eored and he had not realised it. Of course he had been aware of her skills with a sword since he and Théodred had taught her a great deal of it in their younger days, but he had never believed that she would ride to battle with them. He had thought all her talk to be an expression of her romanticised idea of war, born of innocence and ignorance about the reality of battle. He should have known better, he figured. Éowyn had long since been forced to lose her innocent outlook on the world. 

Once the decision had been made that they would all together march on the Black Gates, pulling the remaining forces of the Gondorian and the Rohirrim armies together, the council was called to an end. Éowyn made her way over to the large doors to leave the great hall, Elgarain close behind her. Éomer's gaze followed them, taking in the way the Ranger favoured her right side while walking. Elgarain had become a good and trusted friend to him, and he could not help wondering what she intended to do when the Host of the West would leave for the Black Gates. He may not have known her long, but he knew her well enough to understand that she would not voluntarily stay behind in Minas Tirith while the final battle for the future of Middle Earth was fought elsewhere. 

Éomer sighed, watching his sister and the Ranger disappear. He worried about both of them.

It was after dinner that he was unexpectedly given the chance to address the matter. He was about to leave the hall when he noticed Elgarain standing next to the doorway and he made his way over to her. “How are you, my friend?”

Elgarain greeted him with a quick nod. “I am fine, thank you, Master Éomer.” 

Éomer looked at her, his eyebrow raised in disbelieve. “I saw how you move, Elgarain. Master Aragorn was right. The injury is severe.”

“What is it about my way to move that makes you think that?”

Éomer snorted. “You are an experienced warrior yourself, my friend, I do not need to tell you that you are heavily favouring your right side.”

She inclined her head, only a tiny bit, but Éomer knew that it was all the acknowledgement he was going to get. 

“I understand that you feel the call to join the forces in their ride to the Black Gates, but this time it is not your place to fight.” Éomer paused, hesitating for a moment, then he decided that he had to speak his mind. “You may be older than me, Elgarain, but it seems that concerning this matter, you are not wiser. You should know better than to head for battle with an injury that influences your range of movement.” 

She turned her head to look at him, her lips pressed together until they formed a thin line, but she did not say anything. It was obvious that she knew he was right, but she was not ready to say so. Éomer did not think it his place to make her admit her inability to fight, but he knew he had to make his point. So he continued, bringing his last and strongest argument to bear. 

“You want to ride and I understand you, my friend. We all know the importance of this battle. Yet I think that it is not your only duty to offer your life for the survival of Middle Earth, it is also your duty to stay alive for those who care about you.” Éomer remarked quietly and threw a pointed glance at his sister who was talking to Master Aragorn across the hall. “Think well before you decide. Your actions will not only affect you.” 

Éomer touched his hand to her shoulder for a moment, then he turned and left the hall. He hoped that his words would make her reconsider, maybe even make her see reason. 

He did not even want to think about what his sister would do if Elgarain rode to battle and did not return.

*** 

Elgarain had just entered her Lady's quarters when Éowyn cornered her with her hands on her hips, her eyes narrowed and her stance firm. It was obvious that she had been waiting for Elgarain to return, and that she would not let her go until she had got the answers she wanted. 

“What happened to your side?” Éowyn asked and made a movement with her bandaged left that encompassed Elgarain's right side. Before Elgarain could answer, Éowyn pointed her finger at her with a threatening glare. “And do not dare to tell me it was nothing serious.”

Elgarain bit her lip, because she had actually been about to say something along those lines. She was quiet for a moment, then she took a deep breath and explained. “I cannot tell you when it happened, but sometime during the battle, I must have been hit.”

When that was all Elgarain said, Éowyn made a movement with her hand that demanded her to elaborate. Elgarain sighed, reluctant to say more, but gave in. “After he had treated you, Aragorn took care of the wound. It needed stitches, but otherwise it was a clean cut.” 

“Let me have a look.” Éowyn's hands settled on Elgarain's shoulders and pressed, urging her to sit down on the bed. Elgarain resisted, not wanting her Lady to see the extend of the injury.

“Aragorn is a very skilled healer, Éowyn. There is nothing else that can be done.”

“I do not doubt Master Aragorn's healing skills, Elgarain, but I do doubt that you have told me the true severity of your injury.” The Lady's voice was firm, almost angry. “Now take off your tunic and lay down to let me have a look.” 

Never had Elgarain heard Éowyn sound that resolute. It was clear that she would not accept any refusal to obey on Elgarain's part, so Elgarain reluctantly let herself be guided to sit on the bed. She removed her tunic, but before she could reach for her undershirt, Éowyn's fingers had found the hem and slowly pulled it up. The careful gentleness of her hands stood in sharp contrast to her forceful words only moments earlier. Elgarain understood that her harshness was born out of concern, maybe even fear, and when she raised her gaze to look at her Lady's face, she saw a crease of worry etched on Éowyn's forehead. 

The Lady was focussed on removing the bandage, her eyes trained on her task, her mouth tense with concentration. When she had reached the last layer, she pushed Elgarain backwards to lie on the bed before she began to peel it aside. Elgarain heard the sharp intake of breath when Éowyn gently eased away the soaked bandage and saw the injury with her own eyes for the first time. The cloth stuck to the edges of the wound where the blood had dried and Éowyn pried it off with remarkable careful and gentle fingers, trying to cause as little pain as possible. Elgarain did not make a sound even if the fire in her side flared up again. A moment later, fresh smelling herbs were pressed to her flesh, their healing powers manifesting instantly when the pain eased.

“What are you doing?” Elgarain was taken by surprise by the sudden pleasant numbness in her side and raised her head to look at Éowyn in confusion. 

“I asked Master Aragorn for supplies to change your bandage.” her Lady replied, calmly applying pressure to the injury with her hand, the paste of crushed herbs visible between her fingers. 

Elgarain had to swallow against the lump that had suddenly formed in her throat, understanding how much worry she had really caused her Lady if she had gone to this length. “Thank you.”

Éowyn looked up, her eyes serious. “I would not have you suffer if there is anything I can do, even if it means that I have to protect you from your own stubbornness.”

Elgarain could not help a chuckle. “Aye, that might be necessary sometimes.”

A tiny smirk was tugging on Éowyn's lips. “I know.”

After another minute or two, Éowyn removed the herbs that were meant to ease the pain. With calm, steady hands, she cleaned the wound and washed away the remaining blood before she began to apply a new bandage with fresh herbs that supported the healing process. She made Elgarain sit up so that she could wrap the long line of cloth around her waist, always careful not to hurt her. Once Éowyn had firmly tied off the bandage, she rested one hand flat on the new white cloth and stared at the fabric under her fingers with a deep frown on her face, her lips pressed into a tight line. After a long time, Éowyn looked up and caught Elgarain's gaze.

“If you ride, I ride.” There was no doubt that she meant it. 

Elgarain nodded. “Understood.”

*** 

That night, the darkness and its icy fingers returned to haunt Éowyn in her sleep. Something was different, though, for they inflicted their scalding touch not on her. There were moans of pain echoing through the darkness, little noises that made shivers run down Éowyn's spine. She knew the voice, she knew the person, but she could not pinpoint who it was, could not tell where they were. She began walking blindly, following the sounds, driven by the profound urge to find the person and to help them fight off the torture she had lived through herself so many times since she had encountered the Witch King. 

She walked and walked, always heading towards the sounds of pain, but it was as if she did not move forward at all. She sped up her pace, then she began to run, but it did not seem to have any impact. The moans grew louder, more tortured even, and Éowyn bit her lip in frustration. She had to reach the person who was suffering in the darkness, had to support them, had to help them just like the bright light had helped her once. Suddenly the blackness faded to give way to a light grey, just enough so that Éowyn could recognise the shape of a person standing in some distance. It was a familiar silhouette, Éowyn noticed with a concerned frown, and she tried to move faster. 

The grey eased a little, allowing her to see long, dark brown hair hanging down dull and heavy, obscuring the face of the woman it belonged to. It was then that Éowyn realised that the woman was not standing on her own, she was held in glowing red chains that burned the skin of her arms where they were pulled high over her head. Éowyn felt icy coldness in the pit of her stomach. She knew who the woman was, even without being able to see her face.

It was Elgarain, and the fingers of darkness were all over her, burning away her skin, making her grind her teeth in the hopeless endeavour to keep her screams of pain quiet. Éowyn knew the feeling, remembered every single time the darkness had burned her, and she was overwhelmed by the urge to put an end to this. When Elgarain opened her eyes, the blue almost swallowed by the black of her blown pupils, it almost made Éowyn choke. She struggled to run faster but she just did not move forward, and her heart hammered with frustration, with helplessness and desperation. She had to do something, _anything_ , to help Elgarain, yet she was unable to reach her. 

She refused to avert her eyes for even a second, holding the tortured gaze, willing Elgarain to see that she was not alone, that Éowyn would do everything in her power to free her. She doubled her efforts to move, but suddenly a veil of blackness slid inbetween her and Elgarain, obscuring the view until there was nothing to see but darkness. Éowyn wanted to scream, her throat felt rough and sore but there was just no sound coming. She screwed her eyes shut in her effort to find her voice, and when she opened them again, the darkness was gone.

It took her a moment to realise that she had woken up, that she was no longer held captive in the dark dream. Her heart was beating too fast, the anguish following her into the waking world. Éowyn took a deep, calming breath and took in her surroundings, realising that she was wrapped firmly in the protective embrace of her Ranger. Elgarain's face was untroubled, untouched by the torture Éowyn had seen in her nightmare. She was sound asleep, her breath even and deep. Éowyn watched her for a few minutes to reassure herself that her Ranger was all right, and it eased her mind to see Elgarain so peaceful. There were still dark shadows under her eyes and she was too pale, but it was obvious that she had begun to recover.

When the remains of the nightmare had faded in the face of reality, Éowyn slowly lay down again, resting her head on Elgarain's chest so that she could listen to the strong, steady beat of her heart. The soothing sound accompanied her into sleep, keeping the darkness away.

*** 

It was two days after the council's decision to ride for the Black Gates that Aragorn saw Elgarain walk across the courtyard towards the House of Healing where he had spent most of the morning. Her steps were uneven and she was obviously favouring her right side. When she saw him standing by the door, she came straight towards him. He noticed that she did not move nearly as swiftly as he knew she normally would have. He had been right, this injury was severe. Severe enough to influence her range of movement so much that it actually showed. 

“Aragorn.” She greeted him with a nod.

“Elgarain, my friend.” He took the arm she offered in greeting. “I assume you come so that I can have a look at your injury and change the bandages?”

She nodded. “Aye, your assumption is correct.” 

“Come with me, then.” Aragorn led her to the small room he had used to treat injuries for the past days. He readied new linen for the bandage and some herbs he would use keep the wound clean and support the healing. When he turned, Elgarain had shed her waistcoat and had lain down. He rolled up the hem of her tunic until he could loosen the bandages that bore only faint traces of blood. It was a good sign.

“I see the Lady has taken good care of you.” he remarked with a satisfied smile. When Lady Éowyn had come to him to ask for his help and advice in dealing with Elgarain's injury, he had known instantly that he had found a powerful ally in his quest to make his old friend see reason. 

Elgarain gave a little nod. “Aye, that she has.”

Aragorn removed the fabric that was only marginally crusted with blood, but it still stuck to the wound. She did neither flinch nor give a sound. He knew this was by far not the worst injury she had sustained.

“The departure for the Black Gates is planned for tomorrow morning.” Elgarain remarked quietly, stating a fact they were both well aware of.

“You cannot come for this battle, my friend.” Aragorn said quietly, his voice leaving no doubt about the truth of his words. He had seen countless injuries in his time, and he knew that the ride alone would be manageable, but there was no chance she could survive battle. Even if it was no enemy blade that struck her down, her own movements in combat would aggravate the wound enough to make it fatal. “You must know that you are in no condition to fight.”

She was silent for a long time while he peeled back the last of the bandage and began to wash out the wound with fresh water. He heard her sigh gently. “Aye, I know.”

“Will you remain here, then?” Aragorn asked, not entirely certain that she was going to do what was reasonable. He understood her, there was hardly anything that could have kept him from going to the Black Gates to give Frodo and Sam the time they needed to destroy the ring. To end this once and for all. 

“Aye, I will stay.” She replied quietly. She did not sound happy about it.

After a moment, he understood. “You will remain with the Lady.”

Elgarain turned her head and held his gaze, her eyes serious, then she nodded. “Aye.”

Aragorn chuckled and applied a paste of crushed herbs on the fresh bandage before he gently pressed it to the wound. “I see she can make you see reason, my friend.”

Elgarain smirked. “She has her ways.”

“I noticed.” Aragorn smiled in return, quickly and efficiently redoing the bandage. 

“Her brother was no less convincing.” Elgarain added and snorted. 

“How is that?” Aragorn looked up with a quizzically raised eyebrow.

“He caught me after the council and told me much the same thing as you just did.”

Aragorn smirked. “He is a wise man, then.”

“That he is.” Elgarain was quiet while he finished the treatment, her mouth pressed into a thin line when she sat up. “I hate to stay behind.”

Aragorn stepped back to let her stand up. “It is the only right thing to do.”

“I know.” She sighed, the frown never leaving her face. “It does not make it any easier, though.”

*** 

The long line of men was slowly riding through the city's different levels down to the gates and out onto the plains. The sound of the horses' hooves on the pavement was underlined by the rattling of swords and armour. There was an aura of determination to the men, but it was not the certainty of victory that gave it to them, but the certainty of death. 

Elgarain stood on the edge of the upper level, the view across the lands unobstructed, and watched the procession head for Mordor. She felt restless, the frown on her face the outward sign of her inner discontent. She felt that she should have been among the men, should have been at Aragorn's side to ride for the final battle for Middle Earth. She knew as well as everybody else that this was the last the Host of the West had to offer, the last attempt to defeat the Evil Lord. If this battle was lost, there would be no other. The war would be over and all inhabitants of Middle Earth would slowly perish. She hated standing at the sidelines for this important moment, but she knew Éomer and Aragorn were right. She would be of no help in her current condition, she would be nothing but a burden.

Elgarain shifted from one foot to the other, and immediately the pain of her injury shot through her side with glaring intensity, a powerful reminder of why she had to stay behind. There was no shame in doing so, she knew that many good men had to remain in Minas Tirith because they were too heavily injured to fight. Yet it bothered her not to be able to do anything while Middle Earth stood on the brink of destruction and every blade was direly needed. Elgarain took a deep breath, letting it out in a discontent sigh. 

She heard almost quiet footsteps behind her that she easily identified as belonging to her Lady. Éowyn approached her slowly and came to stand beside her, close enough that their arms touched.

“You feel you should be riding with them.” Éowyn's voice was quiet, leaving no doubt that she knew what Elgarain had been thinking.

“So do you.” It was a simple statement of the truth. Elgarain turned to look at her Lady, her gaze free of judgement. 

Éowyn held it for a long time before she turned back to look over the city and the plains that stretched beyond. Her hand found Elgarain's, her fingers sliding inbetween the Ranger's until they were firmly entwined. “Aye, so do I.”

They remained standing side by side at the edge of the upper level until the line of soldiers had vanished behind the horizon.

*** 

The days passed slowly. Life had to go on and the Gondorian people left no doubt that they would rebuild their city and reinstall business. Within a few days, people were busy getting the debris out and clearing the space for repair works. Éowyn was standing with Elgarain on the upper level, watching how the inhabitants of the city moved about when she heard a low, friendly voice behind her. 

“Greetings, my Lady. Ranger.”

Éowyn turned to find a man standing a few steps away from her. She had seen him before and knew that he was the second son of the late steward of Gondor. His light red hair was slightly tousled and there were heavy bandages visible under his clothes, but his eyes were clear and warm, his face friendly. Éowyn immediately liked him, there was something pure about him as if he was entirely free of malice.

“Lord Faramir.” Éowyn gave a little bow and smiled at him while Elgarain and him exchange a short but friendly nod. “What can we do for you?”

“My Lady, may I make a request?”

Éowyn nodded, watching him attentively. “Of course, my Lord.”

“Would you agree to take charge of the women who have begun rebuilding the city? We have barely any men who are not injured, and the few we have are needed in the protection of the city. None of us is able to lead the work forces, yet we need a firm had to organise the women and the children if we want to achieve anything. I was informed that you have been running the court of Meduseld for years, so I trust that you are able to handle the situation.”

Éowyn was taken by surprise to be approached with such an important task, yet she understood his reasoning. “I would be honoured.”

“I thank you, my Lady.” Master Faramir smiled at her, warm and honest, and she could not help feeling a strange kind of kinship to him. There was a sadness to him that she understood although she barely knew him. 

“Your people have already gone to work with great enthusiasm.” Éowyn remarked with a gesture of her hand towards the lower levels of the city. 

“Aye, so they have.” Lord Faramir nodded with a smile that bespoke his affection for his people. “But the works are not organised and progress is slow. If we optimise the efforts, we will be able to clear the debris faster and start rebuilding our houses.” 

“I will help where I can, my Lord.” Éowyn said with a firm voice, willing him to see that she would do her part in the reconstruction of the white city. She had grown restless during the past days, filled with the urge to engage in the efforts to undo the damage. Taking charge of the work forces was exactly what she needed.

“I am in your debt, my Lady.” Lord Faramir smiled at her, then he turned towards Elgarain. “Ranger, I am aware that you were injured, but I was hoping to enlist your experience as well.”

“Of course, my Lord.” Elgarain replied, and Éowyn could tell that she had grown just as restless over the past days as Éowyn herself had. “What do you wish me to do?”

“We need a force protecting the city. The walls have been damaged too extensively to act as an effective shield. We need guards in strategic posts, keeping any roaming creatures from entering the city.” When Elgarain nodded, Lord Faramir continued. “I am certain that you are aware that we have barely any able bodied men left in the city. Almost everybody is injured in some way, and it is up to us to sort through the men and decide who can be of any help.” 

“Everybody who can walk is able to take watch duty, everybody who can wield a weapon has to stand guard.” Elgarain suggested.

“I was thinking along the same lines.” Lord Faramir nodded. “One problem is that I am the last commander left in the city. All others have either left for the Black Gates or lie heavily injured in the House of Healing. I need you as a second-in-command to take charge with me of the remaining men. I cannot watch the whole city on my own.”

Elgarain inclined her head in a respectful bow. “I am at your service, my Lord.”

Only an hour later, Éowyn head deep in work, too busy to think of anything but her tasks. She met with the people who had begun to clear the city of debris and split them in groups, strategically placing them to achieve maximum results. The entire day, she was running from one corner of the city to the next, assessing damage and trying to get a picture of the condition the houses and walls were in. Then she drew up a quick plan where the repair works were the most essential and redirected a few of the work groups consisting of women, older children and old men. Nobody complained about the hard labour, everybody did their share. Over the next days, Éowyn got lost in the haze of daily tasks. It felt good to finally have something to do that would make a difference and she poured all her energy into it. 

When she took a moment too look around, Éowyn noticed the makeshift guarding force Lord Faramir and Elgarain had put up to protect the people of Minas Tirith of the creatures that had remained after the battle. Nobody had any illusions about the strength of a force that consisted of men that were either too old to fight or partly incapacitated by injury, but their presence reassured the inhabitants and allowed them to concentrate on their task. It took Éowyn only a few days to realise that that was the actual purpose of setting up guards. 

In the evenings, when she was finally back in her quarters, Éowyn was too tired to do anything but sleep. She made sure to change the bandage on Elgarain's side every day and she was glad to see that Elgarain was recovering well, even if it was obvious that it would take time for the cut to heal completely. The days bled into each other, filled with endless hours of work and duties. It was on the late morning of one of those days when Éowyn was grooming Windafola that she heard a murmur going through the people who were moving about the stables. Éowyn looked up from her task when the chatter turned into agitated shouting. She let go of he horse and walked outside, only to find people gathered in the courtyard. 

Éowyn instinctively turned to the east where the darkness of Mordor spread into the lands of Gondor with its black clouds when there was a scream of an unnatural pitch filling the air, almost painful to the ears. It grew stronger, then there was a moment of eerie silence before the faint rumbling of an explosion could be heard. Only moments later, bright orange lava was spat into the dark skies by the volcano of Mount Doom, accompanied by black ashes and glowing red rocks. Éowyn could not avert her gaze, staring with a mixture of confusion and wonder at the scene.

“What is happening?” She heard that her voice sounded breathless. Deep down she knew what was going on but did not dare to believe it. Her eyes were wide open and her gaze was fixed upon the sight in the east. 

“The Hobbits succeeded. The Ring has been destroyed!” She heard Elgarain say next to her, the astonished smile obvious in her voice.

In the east, the sun broke through the black clouds and for the first time in ages touched the grounds of Mordor. Éowyn saw it happen, and until her dying day she would always associate this moment with Elgarain's happy, clear laugh of relief and the bright smile that accompanied it.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter (really, this time I mean it XD)! Wow, we got there! I hope you liked my foray into the BoH/Lotr world and my take on Elgarain and Éowyn. I'd love to know what you think, because comments are love and a great deal of work went into this story. You'd make me a very happy wee author ^_^

[ ](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/nanuk_dain/16335757/92742/92742_original.jpg)

The ride back to Minas Tirith was far less tense than the march on the Black Gates had been. Aragorn was well aware that while Sauron was defeated, not all evil had been eradicated along with him. The spawn of his long reign had infested the lands too deeply to be undone within one battle. There were several skirmishes along the way with the Gondorian and Rohirrim forces proving their worth in combat, defeating the creatures with little effort. The page had been turned in favour of Middle Earth, Aragorn was certain of it.

When he caught sight of the city, Aragorn did not dare to believe his eyes. While the destructive force of the attack was still clearly visible, it was lessened by the amount of work that had been done in their absence. The streets and alleys had been cleared of debris and materials that were to be reused had been stacked in neat piles to one side of the path. Groups of women, old men and teenage children were working on repairs all over the city. It was a beehive of activity. 

There were guards greeting the returning forces on the remains of the outmost city wall in what Aragorn knew where strategically important places. It was obvious that those who had stayed behind had put their energy and skill to good use. The feeling of hope grew stronger with every step they rode deeper into the White City that was reemerging out of the ruins of an centuries-old war. 

There was a fleet of young boys waiting for their arrival at the top level, ready to take care of the horses of the victorious warriors. Word of Sauron's defeat must have spread, Aragorn mused, for there were people cheering and welcoming them all along the way. When the soldiers had followed the winding street through the city up to the highest level, people had stopped working to greet them with heartfelt admiration, gratefulness and relief. 

In the courtyard of the Citadel, Aragorn was greeted by the sight of Elgarain and Lady Éowyn, upright and healthy, smiling at their return. Next to them stood the man who Aragorn knew was Faramir of Gondor, second son of the late Steward and younger brother of Boromir. Aragorn had never had the chance to talk to him before they had left for the Black Gates since Faramir had lain heavily injured when the Rohirrim had freed the city, yet it was easy to recognise him. The resemblance to Boromir was as obvious as their differences.

"Welcome back, my Lord." Faramir stepped up to Aragorn once he had dismounted and offered a respectful bow. It was the little but sincere smile on his face that made Aragorn like him immediately. "Word has spread that Sauron has been defeated."

"Aye, so he has." Aragorn agreed, returning the smile. "A new Age has begun." 

Before he could say any more, Elgarain approached him and took his hand in a firm grip, giving it a short shake. The smile on her lips spoke of honest joy and heartfelt relief. "It is good to see you alive, my friend."

Aragorn felt his smile widen at the sight of his friend. Elgarain looked good, the colour had returned to her face and she was not visibly favouring her right side anymore. "Elgarain, my friend. You are better, I see." 

"Aye." Her smile turned into a grin. "My Lady has taken good care of me."

Aragorn turned to face the Lady of Rohan, who stood right next to Elgarain, a smirk on her lips. She had obviously listened to the conversation. "I thank you for your service, my Lady."

Lady Éowyn inclined her head in a little nod, her eyes gleaming almost mischievously. He had never believed to see such an carefree expression on her face. "It was my pleasure, my Lord."

Out of the corner of his eye, Aragorn saw Elgarain suppress a grin and he decided it was time to change the subject. So he looked over the city at the multitude of works going on all over the different levels of Minas Tirith. “There have been great improvements in the city.”

Lady Éowyn nodded, her gaze turning to a group of women working on rebuilding a nearby wall. "We have been quite busy. There is much to do." 

Aragorn looked around, a genuine smile on his face. "It is remarkable what you achieved in such short time." 

The Lady returned his smile, and it was easy to read the honest contentment in her eyes. "We will have a council this afternoon to discuss the latest developments. If you are free, my Lord, join us. It will give you a good impression of what has been done and what is left to do."

Aragorn inclined his head in acknowledgement. "Thank you, my Lady, I will gladly join you."

It was then that Faramir suggested to go inside for a quick lunch before everybody would return to their duties. Aragorn followed the group into the Tower Hall, a smile of hope on his face, his thoughts revived with trust in the future.

The war was over. 

*** 

Éowyn moved her pawn, then she leaned back and looked up. Lord Faramir stared intently at the chessboard for a few moments before he reached for his rook. 

Dinner had finished half an hour ago, but the evening was still young. The last rays of the sun filtered into the library, filling it with warm light and shedding an orange haze over the books and the shelves. Éowyn smiled contently. She loved the library, especially at this hour. 

It had become a habit for Eowyn and Lord Faramir to play a round of chess from time to time. They did not play every day, there was too much to do to find that much free time. Yet when it was a quiet evening, they came together in the library to enjoy the challenge of a game of chess. 

Over the past few weeks, Éowyn had come to know a lot about the quiet son of the late Steward of Gondor. She learned about the love he held for his dead brother, about the profound loyalty he felt for his country and his people, about his gentle nature and his sincere friendliness. The more she learned, the more she liked Lord Faramir and his quiet strength. He became a dear friend to her, which was the reason why she had decided to turn to him with her request. 

Once she had set down her knight in its new position, Éowyn caught Lord Faramir's gaze. “May I ask you for a favour, my Lord?”

He focussed his attention on her instead of the game, his eyes sincere. “Of course, my Lady. How can I be at your service?”

"I have been in Minas Tirith for weeks now, yet I have barely left the city. You are a son of Gondor, you know these lands, and I was wondering if you were willing to teach me about them."

Lord Faramir seemed surprised by her request, but his smile told her that it was a good surprise. "I would be honoured to be at your service, my Lady. Did you have something particular in mind?"

For a moment, Éowyn hesitated, then she decided to listen to her instincts that told her that she could trust him. “It is for Elgarain. She is a Ranger of the North, she is used to the wild, to the open skies, to nature. I know she is uncomfortable being around so many people for so long, to be surrounded by walls of stone all the time. I can feel her growing restless and I think she needs to get out of the city for a while.” 

Éowyn stopped, almost embarrassed by the flood of words that she had been unable to stop. "I want to take her outside for a day or two, somewhere peaceful where she can recharge in the silence of nature. Since you know these lands, I was hoping you might tell me where I could find such a spot.”

Lord Faramir smiled warmly, and Éowyn thought she saw understanding in his eyes. “Aye, I can help you with that, my Lady.”

*** 

True to his word, Lord Faramir took Éowyn on several exploratory tours into the lands surrounding the White City. In the course of the next week he showed her all kinds of quiet spots, be it in the forest, on the riverbank or near the small lakes in the woods, telling her how he and his brother had discovered them as children. He glowed when he talked about Boromir, his smile youthful and heartfelt in a way she had not seen inside the city walls. It felt good to see him lose this sadness that too often seemed to surround him like a cloak.

Éowyn paid good attention to the paths they rode to create a map of the area in her mind. She noted all the little things Lord Faramir told her about the places they visited, everything from the advantages to the possible dangers in times like these. By the end of the week, she knew exactly where she was going to take Elgarain.

The early morning was beautiful, announcing a warm, sunny day. Elgarain had just finished dressing and made to reach for her spear when Éowyn caught her hand. “You will not need that today.” 

Elgarain turned to look at her, surprise and confusion obvious in her expression. Éowyn just smiled and pointed at the bow and quiver that rested next to the door. “Take those instead. We will go hunting in the woods today.”

“We will?”

“Aye.” Éowyn replied, the smile still on her lips. “We are expected back tomorrow afternoon.”

Elgarain nodded and went for her bow and quiver. “How many are we?”

Éowyn pulled back her hair, needing something to keep her fingers busy so that their fidgeting did not betray her nervousness. “It is just us.”

Elgarain narrowed her eyes, obviously aware that something was going on, but then she just smiled and nodded. “I am looking forward to it, my Lady.”

Éowyn returned the smile, relieved that Elgarain trusted her and did not pressed the issue. She wanted the surprise to be absolute, and further questions would have made it difficult to keep up the pretence. Only half an hour later they were ready to leave, their horses geared up and their saddle bags packed. Éowyn took the lead as soon as they left the outmost city wall, knowing which way she wanted to take to the spot she had in mind. The air was clear and fresh and the sun had just passed the horizon, the first rays warm on her skin. The wind passed through her hair when they crossed the plains that surrounded the city and Éowyn spurred Windafola to a full gallop. 

At first, Elgarain followed her lead, then she took up the challenge and they ended up in a race at breakneck speed. Éowyn felt laughter bubble up inside her, easy and heartfelt and joyous, and she heard it returned from Elgarain next to her. This was freedom to her, this very moment was pure happiness. She felt alive in a way she had not experienced in a very long time.

Éowyn slowed down only when they reached the outskirts of the forest. Elgarain easily fell back in line behind her when the path narrowed so much that it only allowed one rider at a time. Éowyn decided to take the long way through the woods, enjoying the ride to much to end it yet. She made sure to pass several of the spots Lord Faramir had showed her, paying attention to Elgarain's reactions. She felt warmer with every smile she saw on her Ranger's face, with every bit the tension in her shoulders eased and with every laugh that left her lips. Éowyn could practically see how much good it did Elgarain to get out of the city and away from the masses of people. 

It was still early when they approached the clearing Éowyn had intended for their camp. She slowly rode into the centre and dismounted. “This is where we will stay tonight.”

Éowyn watched Elgarain follow her example, then she looked around, taking in the surroundings. The clearing was rather small, just a circle free of trees right next to a little stream. It formed a pool at one side of the clearing, a little outcrop surrounded by rocks smoothed over by the constant flow of water. Single rays of the sun touched the ground, giving the clearing a warm and comfortable atmosphere. The song of the birds filled the air, joined by the sounds of the forest. 

There was a gentle smile on Elgarain's face, her eyes sparkling with pleasure. “It is beautiful, Éowyn.”

Éowyn felt goosebumps spread over her skin when she heard her name coming from Elgarain's lips with so much sincere warmth. It was still rare that the Ranger used her name, and every time she did, it felt like a caress. “I am glad that you like it, Elgarain.”

Elgarain turned towards her, one eyebrow raised. “This is not just a hunting trip, is it?”

"Well, we are indeed supposed to bring back some meat." Éowyn could not help chuckling. "Lord Faramir agreed with me that the inhabitants of the White City could always need substantial food."

Elgarain stepped up to her and wrapped her arms around Éowyn's waist from behind, resting her chin on her shoulder. "He is a kind man, then." 

“That he is.” Éowyn agreed and leaned back in the warmth of Elgarain's arms. “He showed me the lands surrounding Minas Tirith when I told him of my intention to take you out of the city.”

“So that was where you disappeared to for hours at a time.”

“You did notice my absence?” Éowyn could not help sounding surprised. She had thought that Elgarain was so busy with her duties that she would not have picked up on it.

“Of course I noticed. I may have been very busy, but I always made sure to know where you were. There were times when nobody seemed to know, but you always were back in the evening.” Éowyn felt her shrug. “Since you did not tell me about it on your own accord, I figured you would let me know when you were ready.”

“I did not know.” Éowyn frowned. “I did not intend to cause any worry.”

“I trust you.” Elgarain pulled her close, her arms tightening around Éowyn's waist. Her voice was barely audible when she murmured next to Éowyn's ear, "Thank you."

Éowyn smiled, knowing Elgarain would be able to hear in in her voice. "I had the feeling that you needed some time away from the city, away from the people."

Elgarain was quiet for a moment, then Éowyn felt her lips touch her temple in a gentle, lingering kiss. "You were right. I did." 

Éowyn turned in her arms so that she could look her into the eyes. She raised her hands and cupped Elgarain's jaw in a gentle grip, then she pulled her down to touch her lips first to her forehead, then to the tip of her nose and finally to her mouth. Éowyn took her time, slowly and thoroughly exploring with her lips and tongue, enjoying the way Elgarain responded to her touch. When she pulled back, Elgarain was breathing equally hard as she was.

“Let us fulfil our duty now, then we can dedicate the rest of the day to pleasure.” Elgarain said with a smirk, her eyes dark with desire. 

Éowyn could not help laughing. “I see we are thinking along the same lines.”

Elgarain's smirk widened into a grin. “I am relieved to hear that, my Lady.”

The rest of the morning was spent on the hunt. By early afternoon, they had assembled a satisfying pile of prey to one side of the clearing, ready and prepared to be taken back to the city the next day. Éowyn enjoyed the carefree look on Elgarain's face, relieved to see the swiftness return to her movements now that her injury was almost healed. 

The sun was touching the pool next to the clearing when they called it a day. Elgarain eyed it for a moment, then she turned to look at Éowyn. There was mischief in her eyes and a smirk on her lips. “Let us take a bath, my Lady. We are filthy and sweaty.”

“I am sure that cleaning up is the only thing on your mind.” Éowyn chuckled, but did not hesitate to undo her tunic. 

“Of course, my Lady. I would never think of anything else.” The teasing grin on her lips proved her words wrong, but Éowyn did not mind the least. She enjoyed the banter, the easy smile on Elgarain's face, the glow in her eyes. This was the woman she had falling in love with, and it was a pleasure to finally have her back. 

Éowyn could not help watching while Elgarain shed the multiple layers of her clothes. Every time again, the sight of her lean body took Éowyn's breath away, no matter how many times she had seen it before. There was a new scar now, the angry red line of the gash she had received in the battle of the Pelennor Fields. It ran down her right side, the stitches gone but the puncture wounds still visible. Éowyn had watched it heal, and she knew it looked much batter than the first time she had seen it. Yet she could not help the feeling of dread when she thought of how close she had come to losing her Ranger.

The thought disappeared to be replaced by far more pleasurable ones when Elgarain turned towards her, entirely comfortable in her own nudity, and held out a hand in invitation. “Do you want me to help you lose your clothes, my Lady?” 

Éowyn smirked. “I would appreciate it very much.”

Elgarain chuckled and stepped up to her, loosening the fastenings of Éowyn's tunic with deft fingers. It did not take long until the last garment had pooled around Éowyn's feet, leaving her skin exposed to the cool spring air. Elgarain took her hand and led her to the stream, pulling her into the water along with her. It was not as cold as Éowyn had expected, warmed by the rays of the sun that bathed the little pool in bright light. She sank to her knees until the water covered her up to her shoulders, taking pleasure in the cool freshness.

“This is heaven.” Elgarain said with a satisfied smile on her face when she surfaced after immersing entirely. She stroked back her wet hair, then she reached out and settled her hands on Éowyn's hips to pull her close. Éowyn leaned back, feeling the warmth of Elgarain's body in her back, the gentle circle of her arms around Éowyn's waist. Elgarain pressed a lingering kiss to her shoulder, her hands travelling up to Éowyn's neck only to wander down again, purposely passing over hardened nipples. Slowly they found their way down over Éowyn's stomach to her legs.

“This trip was a very good idea, Éowyn.” Elgarain murmured right next to her ear before she returned to nuzzling Éowyn's neck. Éowyn felt the warmth of her hands wander up the inside of her thighs in a teasingly light caress. She closed her eyes and let her head fall back to rest on Elgarain's shoulder, baring her throat to her lips, never hesitating to open her legs to grant the skilled fingers unlimited access. Her heart beat faster and the blood echoed in her ears, her skin tingling in pleasant anticipation.

She could only agree. This trip had indeed been a very good idea.

*** 

One of the rabbits they had shot this morning ended up being dinner, slowly roasted on a spit over the fire they had lit. They ate while telling stories, sharing laughter and memories of times long past. Darkness had fallen by the time they had spread their bedrolls next to the fire, so close together they served as one. Neither woman intended to sleep alone, too beautiful was the night, too precious the privacy. Éowyn settled down first, lying on her back and opening her arms in invitation. Elgarain smiled and lay down next to her Lady, taking up the offer and cuddling up along her side. She rested her head on Éowyn's shoulder, one arm wrapped around her waist. Éowyn's hand came up and began slowly carding through the long strands of Elgarain's hair in a soothing rhythm. 

For a long time Elgarain just stared into the merrily dancing flames of the fire, enjoying the quiet of the clearing, the feeling of Éowyn's body against hers, the caress of the fingers in her hair. It was comfortable in a way that was impossible to achieve within the city walls and Elgarain found herself recharging just as she knew Éowyn had intended. If felt good to forget the world for a day, to concentrate on the simple pleasures of life. Hours spent outside, the thrill of a successful hunt, a satisfying bath, good dinner and a shared laugh. 

Silence fell, comfortable and peaceful, enhanced by the warmth of the night air and the gentle rustling of the trees. Elgarain felt as if they were wrapped in a cocoon of contentment in this remote clearing by the stream, removed from the world, safe and happy in this tranquil moment in time. She was lulled into sleep by the strong, regular beating of Éowyn's heart under her ear. She was almost asleep when she heard her Lady's voice close to her ear, a question so quiet that it was almost too soft to hear. “What do you want for the future?” 

“I want to wake up to your smile.” Elgarain murmured without thinking, just saying what she had known deep inside her for a long time. She cuddled deeper into Éowyn's embrace, comfortable in the warm circle of her arms.

A moment later she heard Éowyn take a deep breath behind her and when she exhaled, her soft warm breath touched Elgarain's skin like the ghost of a caress. “As I want to wake up to yours.”

*** 

It was about three weeks after the victorious return of the Host of the West to the White City of Minas Tirith that Éomer came across the Ranger walking through the courtyard of the Citadel next to Aragorn. They were talking quietly, the atmosphere relaxed and casual. It felt good to know that the mortal peril that had hung over all of them for ages was gone. It showed in the faces of every survivor, and Éomer felt the hope that had taken hold of the people of Middle Earth. It was balm for his soul.

Yet there were still some issues that he knew he had to address, things that were not resolved with the defeat of Sauron. One of those issues was the relationship of the Ranger and his sister. He knew it was technically none of his business, but it was important for him to know where they stood so that he could make the right decisions. Over the past weeks, he had made sure to watch his sister and the Ranger whenever he could, and he had learned more that he had expected. 

It was obvious that their bond was not futile, it was not temporary, and it would not break even under duress. They gravitated together, supported each other with and without words. He had seen them exchange glances that seemed to hold complete conversations. There was a connection between them that was undeniable. Éomer wanted Éowyn to be happy, and he was fairly sure by now that that included keeping Elgarain around. Yet he did not _know_ , and he intended to remedy that ignorance. 

Deciding that this was as good a moment as any other to talk to Elgarain, Éomer approached Aragorn and her. They were talking softly in their tongue, Sindarin if he remembered correctly, and they looked up when he reached them.

“Greetings, my friends.” Éomer offered and was welcomed with a friendly smile on both faces.

“Greetings, Éomer.” Elgarain returned his nod and smiled. 

“Greetings, my friend.” Aragorn still wore simple, functional clothes, even after officially accepting his place as Isildur's heir by showing himself to Sauron, and Éomer felt more comfortable with the future King of Gondor resembling a Ranger rather than a king. He knew he was a king himself now, but it did not feel real yet. The changes were still too fresh.

“The rebuilding of the city passes well.” Éomer stated and looked around. Minas Tirith was recovering from the battle, slowly but steadily.

“Aye, it is.” Aragorn agreed. “Which is to no small part due to your help, my friend. The Rohirrim's support is greatly appreciated.”

“We are glad to be of help.” Éomer offered and acknowledged the thanks with a little nod. “These times demand that we help each other wherever we can. The evil shall not win about us.”

“It will not.” Aragorn said firmly. “There will be a meeting in the Tower Hall at noon where we will address how to proceed. Please come around for your decision will be of great importance.”

“I will be there, my Lord.” Éomer agreed, then he turned towards the Ranger. “I was wondering if I may have a word with you, Elgarain.” 

“Certainly.” she replied and turned to Aragorn. “Will you excuse us, my friend?”

“Of course. We will see each other at noon.” 

Elgarain inclined her head in agreement and then left with Éomer. They slowly walked across the Court of the Fountain towards the edge of the uppermost level. He needed a quiet place to talk to her, this was not a matter to be addressed within a crowd.

“So, Éomer, what is it you wanted to talk about?” the Ranger asked when they slowly walked along the edge of the cliff. There were hardly any people here, this level was reserved to the royal family and their guests.

Éomer stared off into the distance, over the wide planes that stretched from the foot of the city to the mountains of what had been Mordor. How could he best address this sensible matter without pushing the Ranger into the defence, he wondered. He had not thought about what to say, he had just known that he needed to talk to Elgarain. He decided to open the conversation by showing his sincere gratefulness.

“I wish to thank you most deeply once more for keeping my sister safe when I was banned from Edoras.” he said and looked her straight into the eyes, willing her to understand that he meant what he had said. 

“I did not keep her safe on the Pelennor Fields.” he heard her reply quietly, her eyes full of guilt. Éomer knew she blamed herself for Éowyn's injury, but he also knew there had never been a way to protect his sister from what had happened. Not for him, not for Elgarain. It had been Éowyn's fate to meet the Witch King, and it had been only because of her that he had been defeated.

“Neither did I.” Éomer simply replied and showed her that he understood her pain, shared the guilt. She held his gaze for a long while, then she nodded. “There was no way to keep her out of this battle. You know that as well as I do.”

“I know.” Elgarain agreed after a moment. “It doesn't lessen the feeling of having failed her, though.”

“You feel deeply for my sister.” Éomer stated and watched Elgarain carefully. She was a difficult person to read. She turned to look him in the eyes, her expression guarded, but she remained silent.

“I saw you at her side in the House of Healing.” Éomer continued, finally addressing what he had wanted to talk about. “You were scared to death, Elgarain.”

The Ranger held his gaze, then she sighed. “Aye, I was.”

“You fell for her.” It was a statement, not a question. 

She nodded slowly. “I will defend her to my last breath.”

Éomer felt the sincerity pour off Elgarain and he understood this was not an infatuation for her. She was ready to die for his sister and she had proven so several times already. “Does she know?” 

“Aye, she does.” Elgarain turned and stared off into the distance, then she closed her eyes and sighed deeply. “But she is the sister of the King of Rohan, her future lies not with me, a simple Ranger from the North with no home, no title and no future but a life in the wild.”

Éomer was silent for a moment and watched the honest display of emotion on the Ranger's face. He knew her well, still she was mostly reserved and did not show her feelings openly. That she did now told him not only about her trust in him, but also about the depth of the sadness she felt. He stopped walking, put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently. “Elgarain.”

She turned towards him and looked at him, brows furrowed and eyes sad. 

“Does Éowyn share your feelings?” He needed to know, this concerned his sister who he loved dearly and who he wanted to be happy. He knew Éowyn would put her duty over her feelings even if it meant she would be unhappy for the rest of her life, and so would Elgarain. It was the kind of person they were. But Éomer would be damned if he let that happen when he knew a way to prevent it.

Elgarain watched him intensely, a deep furrow between her eyebrows, and he knew she assessed if she harmed Éowyn by telling him. He held her gaze steadily, willing her to understand he meant no harm to either of them and after a moment, she nodded slowly. “Aye, she does.”

Éomer nodded. “So I have suspected.”

“What made you think that?”

“You can make her smile. She welcomes your touch.” Éomer replied honestly. “She trusts you, and she does not trust easily.” He shrugged, feeling his cheeks heat against his will. “And I saw you dance in the Golden Hall at the celebration after Helm's Deep.”

Elgarain nodded but did not say anything, so he went on. “My sister has been very closed off during those past few years when our uncle had been under the spell of the worm. She had lost her smile, her enthusiasm, her liveliness. It was as if her whole spirit had been smothered and I hate how I could not save her from it. But you managed, Elgarain. She opened up to you. She accepts your protection, which is more than can be said for anybody else. She would have growled at me or even our cousin had we even tried.”

“She is a very strong person, Éomer, and I have to admit that I am surprised myself that she accepts my protection.” Elgarain replied and chuckled. “You can believe me, though, that she did not like it the least at the beginning.”

“Aye, I believe that.” Éomer grinned, then he turned serious again. “How long have you been with her?”

This time Elgarain did not hesitate to reply. “Ever since I arrived at Helm's Deep.”

“When she thought you were dead.” Éomer stated and continued when she looked at him with a questioning gaze. “My uncle told me you and Aragorn were believed dead after you fell off a cliff on the way to Helm's Deep.”

“Aye.” It sounded as if she wanted to say more and Éomer gave her an encouraging smile. After a moment, she continued. “When she saw I was alive, she pinned me against a wall and kissed me.”

“She did that?” Even though it was strange to hear such things about his sister, Éomer could not help laughing. “Éowyn has more of a temper than most people think. You may have realised that by now.”

“So I have.” Elgarain chuckled and Éomer took it for a good sign. 

Éomer turned serious again. “May I ask what you intend to do now that the war is over?”

Elgarain took a deep breath and let it out slowly before she turned to look at him. “I do not know where my path will lead me. I just hope that it lies with your sister.”

Éomer watched her for a moment, then he smiled. Maybe there was a way to repay what he owed her. Maybe there was a way to make things right not only by her but also by his sister. 

It was all up to him.

*** 

Dinner had just ended when Éomer managed to catch his sister alone. She was about to leave the hall when he reached her. “Éowyn, may I speak to you in private?”

She turned and looked at him, obviously surprised by the request, but she just nodded. “Of course. Follow me.”

Éowyn led the way to the library that was filled with the last sunshine of the day. It made her hair glow a fiery red and gave her skin a warm touch when she turned to him. “What is it, Éomer?”

“The war is over and I need to talk with you about how we will proceed once we leave Minas Tirith.” Éomer began, not sure how to steer the conversation in the direction he wanted it to go.

“Aye, that is a concern that has to be addressed.” his sister replied with a short nod. “We have to return to Edoras. The war has caused much damage to our people and our country, we will need to start rebuilding what was destroyed.” 

“There is more to be done. I intend to reorder Rohan's military structure and in the course I will create a new position, that of the Underking of Rohan who is to rule the kingdom in my absence and lead the forces should I be unable.” Éomer stopped, letting his words sink in. “I would have you fill this position.”

Éowyn was silent for a long moment. Éomer wished he could read her face, but it did not betray anything. “Why would you have me take such a high position that includes possible military service?”

It was a question he had expected. Considering the way Éomer had refused to have Éowyn join the fight, it was her right to learn why he had changed his mind. “You proven yourself many times, Éowyn. You have ruled Rohan when our uncle was unable to do so. You are a skilled strategist and the men will follow your lead. I trust you to be the right person for this duty.”

This time he could read her face. It showed how much his words meant to her, how his trust and his respect for her abilities eased an unnamed pain that had been part of her for a very long time. She regained her composure after a moment and bowed her head respectfully. “I would be honoured to accept.”

“Thank you, Éowyn.” Éomer replied, making sure to let her see his sincerity. Then he took a deep breath, fortifying himself to the next part of the conversation. “The structure of the Marshals will change, too. I wish to reduce it to two Marshals, one for the West-mark and one for the East-mark. They will be equal in rank and serve directly under the King or the Underking. Erkenbrand will serve as the new Marshall of the West-mark.” Éomer paused for a moment before he continued. “If it is your wish, I will offer Elgarain the position of the Marshall of the East-mark with base in Aldburg. ” 

“Why would you do that?” Éowyn asked after a moment of stunned silence, the confusion and wonder obvious in her voice. 

“I wish for you to be happy, Éowyn.” Éomer said and touched his hand to her face. “And if I am not terribly mistaken, she makes you happy.”

It was the first time since they had left childhood that he saw her blush. Éomer could not help it, he laughed. “So I was right.”

Éowyn stubbornly refused to avert her eyes, although the red still tinged her cheeks. “Are we that obvious?”

“To those who have known you for all your life, you are.” Éomer smirked, then he turned serious again. “Am I correct to assume that you do not wish to be parted from her just because the war has ended? This is not temporary, is it?”

Éowyn did not hesitate. “Nay, it is not. I wish to remain by her side for the rest of my life.”

Éomer nodded slowly. He had expected this. His sister had always been a strong person, never one to back down from a challenge. Now he was challenging her to make it clear what she wanted, and she did not disappoint. 

“As I said before, if it is your wish, I would grant her the position of the Marshal of the East-mark. You would live in Aldburg and therefore be close enough to fulfil the duties of Underking of Rohan if needed. It is but half a day's ride from Edoras.” Éomer elaborated his line of thinking, still not sure how his sister would reply to his offer.

“It will cause uproar.” Éowyn remarked. “Elgarain is new to Rohan, and she is not of Rohirrim heritage. People will not understand why she is put in such high a position.”

“You are right, Éowyn. She is not of Rohirrim birth.” Éomer agreed. It was another issue he had expected to come up. “But you forgot one very important point. Our warriors know her. They have fought side by side with her at Helm's Deep and the Pelennor Fields. She was involved in the organisation and training of the men at Dunharrow. She rode with my eored for Gondor. The men respect her, they trust her. They will follow her lead.” 

Éomer paused, giving his sister time to take it all in, then he continued. “Elgarain is one of the most capable warriors I have come across. She has long and valuable experience with weapons as well as in strategy. You on the other hand have the experience necessary to lead our country when it is necessary. No king could wish for better support.”

For a moment it seemed like Éowyn did not know what to do, then she stepped forwards and wrapped her arms around him in a firm embrace. Éomer was taken by surprise, but he recovered quickly and hugged her back. When Éowyn pulled back, she was smiling and there were tears glistering in her eyes. “Thank you.”

“So you do wish me to offer her the position?” Éomer asked, although he did not need to. He knew the answer already.

“Aye, I do.” His sister nodded, her whole being glowing with happiness. “I do not know how I can ever repay you.”

Éomer cupped her face in his hands. “My reward is to see you smile again, Éowyn.”

She laughed, carefree and happy. He returned it, knowing he had done the right thing.

*** 

The day was beautiful, the sun stood high on a bright blue sky and Éowyn wondered if the weather had risen to the occasion. It was too much of a coincidence that today, at the coronation of the new King of Gondor, the weather had turned to show the brightness and the beauty of the lands, as if to celebrate the end of the reign of the Darkness and welcome a new Age. 

A knock at the door made her turn away from the window. “Come in.”

She gasped at the sight of the figure that entered her chambers, her eyes widening in surprise.

“May I escort you to the ceremony, my Lady?” Elgarain asked and held out her hand. Éowyn stood rooted in place and just stared at the unusual sight in front of her. Elgarain was dressed in a long, dark green dress that hugged her body in the most sensual way, her hair was washed and combed and fell down to her waist in shiny dark waves, a single crown braid across her head keeping it at bay. Her eyes sparkled with mischief as they wandered over Éowyn's form in a slow, teasing way that made shivers run down her spine. Elgarain looked so different, her unusual beauty glowing in such stark a contrast to the Ranger that normally hid behind dirt and men's clothes. She was radiant, strong and fierce, and Éowyn had to lick her dry lips before she could speak. 

“You look beautiful, Elgarain.” she said and was surprised at the roughness of her voice, at the emotions that were so obvious in her every word. A smile spread over Elgarain's features, brightening her eyes, making her face look young and _happy_ , and the sight made something in Éowyn's stomach uncurl. She wanted to see that expression more often.

Elgarain stepped closer, her hands settled on Éowyn's waist and she nuzzled her nose in the Rohirrim's hair, right next to her ear. “Thank you, my love.”

Éowyn could not help a shudder run through her body, and she knew Elgarain had felt it. There was a chuckle close to her ear, then soft lips pressed against her neck. “I can only return the praise. You look most amazing, my Lady.” 

Éowyn immediately leaned her head to the side, granting Elgarain better access to her neck. It was an instinct, a reflex, and it was rewarded with another lingering kiss to the soft skin right below her ear. “You take my breath away, Éowyn.”

Goosebumps spread all over Éowyn's body and she had to force herself to open her eyes again. She had never even realised that she had closed them. “If we do not stop right now, we will miss the coronation.”

Elgarain laughed against her neck. “You might have a point.”

Éowyn felt one last press of lips to her throat, then Elgarain pulled back and straightened her dress before she offered Éowyn her arm. “Shall we?”

*** 

Éomer let his gaze wander over the uppermost level of Minas Tirith. There were so many people that he could not see the horizon, and they were all gathered to honour the new King of Gondor. Times had changed, he thought with a content little smile. This was the beginning of a new age for the whole of Middle Earth. 

Slowly, the last high ranking guests arrived and took up their position. He watched Faramir of Gondor walk in, his posture straight despite the injuries Éomer knew he was still suffering from. A few steps behind him followed Éowyn and it took Éomer a few seconds to recognise in the tall, dark haired woman at her side as Elgarain. She looked so incredibly different that he had to suppress a surprised gasp. She bore no resemblance to the untidy Ranger he had grown used to. 

She held herself with the same easy strength and elegance that he had seen in his sister countless times, and she moved with a feline grace that was underlined by the soft swing of her skirts. On her shoulders rested a heavy cloak of the same dark green colour as her dress. It was the one she had received when she had officially accepted the position of the Marshall of the East-mark. It was decorated with a traditional Rohirrim pattern at the edges and bore the emblem of the East-mark on the back. It was the sign that Elgarain now belonged to Rohan, that she had sworn fidelity to its king and country.

Éowyn looked like Elgarain's exact opposite, dressed in gold and her hair flowing down her back in soft, bright blond waves. They were contrasts, Éowyn and Elgarain, like black and white, yet there was an aura of belonging around them, of harmony, understanding and trust. It seemed to enfold them, impermeable for anybody else. When Éowyn turned to look at Elgarain, she gave her a little smile which shone through her eyes, brightening her whole expression, and it was mirrored in Elgarain's face. They were incredibly beautiful together.

Éomer smiled. He could not help his gaze wandering back to them again and again during the ceremony, and every time he watched them, it became clearer to him that he had made the right decision. His sister was happy, truly and utterly happy.

This was indeed the beginning of a New Age.

 

*** The End

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know if you liked it! You'd make my day with a wee comment ^_^


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